Like Pages From a Book
by David Hasselhoof
Summary: Detective Phillip Gumshoe's job couldn't get much more relaxed in an easygoing town like Ponyville. Until one day, he gets a case that isn't even close to being worth 20 bits an hour.
1. Chapter 1

The sky was looking rather dreary that day, which was odd. For the most part, the Pegasi over in Cloudsdale usually kept gloomy weather away from Ponyville. Besides, miserable gray skies were more Manehattan's forte. But, reputation doesn't dictate mood all the time, so I had no choice but to simply deal with the cruddy weather as I trotted from my house to my office. It was always a long walk, going from the outskirts of town to the market plaza smack dab in the middle of the quaint settlement. Good exercise, though. And it wakes you up like nopony's business.

I finally reached the cobblestone-laden center of town, where some of the early bird merchants of Ponyville were already setting up shop. Among them was Big McIntosh, a colt with a burgundy hide and a straw-blond mane. He was young, no more than seventeen, tops, and had twigs for legs, but that sure didn't stop him from working hard for his family. Apparently, he had Granny Smith and two little sisters to support. Poor colt.

I walked up to his stand and took out a couple bits, motioning to the delicious piece of Eden known as a Sweet Apple Acre's Apple Pie. He nodded and quickly made the exchange. I looked around and didn't notice any would-be customers around, and decided to start up a bit of small talk. I wasn't normally one to do something like that, but that was usually because I didn't get along with most ponies. Big Mac was a decent sort; an honest colt doing an honest day's work. I could definitely talk with somepony like that.

"Thanks, Big Mac." I said, as he put the apple pie into a bag and handed it to me. I grabbed it and looked up to the sky. "Folks over in Cloudsdale must be in a foul mood, eh?"

"Eeyup."

"And..." I grinned. "Speaking of the other cities, I heard that lil' Applejack came back from Manehattan the other day, not even a week ago. And she got her cutie mark, no less."

Big Mac let a calm, content smile creep onto his face before repeating, "Eeyup."

"Can't believe you pulled the 'grass is greener' trick on her." I shook my head and smiled. "You're just as old fashioned as your Granny, you know."

Big Mac snorted and uttered probably the largest sentence I'd ever heard him say. "Don't know 'bout you, but I reckon that ain't a bad thing t'all."

I nodded silently and began to walk off, bag in mouth. "Thanks for the pie, Big Mac. Tell your Granny she's doing saintly work with them."

"Eeyup."

… … …

It had been 5 hours and nopony had walked into my office. Didn't surprise me. Ponyville's not the most crime-infested city a pony could walk into. It's why I quit the Manehattan police force and set up shop here as a detective. Not because it was less work, that wasn't the reason at all. Piecing together evidence and formulating scenarios was physically trying, but filled my mind with. And it's the kind of work that gave me a sense of pride, which is always a nice bonus.

No, the reason I left Manehattan wasn't to lessen the workload, but to lessen the grit. Manehattan was a big city. Some would even call it the largest in all of Equestria. Big cities attract a lot of people. And when a lot of ponies cram into a city, not all of them get to live somewhere nice and have nice jobs. And when you have a bunch of poor, hardly-employed ponies… things get bad. Oftentimes, to the point of murder.

That was the problem I had: murder. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't look at those kinds of pictures or files. It was just… wrong. Not because I'm a squeamish kind of pony, but to me, it just didn't belong here in Equestria. Murder didn't have any business in a place like this, where everypony was kind to one another, where mistakes were made in earnest, and sins were few and far between. And yet, each day, more of them popped up in Manehattan. I got wise and bolted out of that city before I lost my marbles about 2 years ago.

And here, in Ponyville? The biggest crime this city had in the past 2 years was a large-scale theft from the pastry shop. Yeah. A bunch of cakes getting stolen. That was the worst this city had to offer. Of course, that didn't mean nothing happened. Just nothing graphic. Basically, all it boiled down to,for a detective in a town like this, was finding lost items and people, tasks made simple thanks to my magic. See? Boring, easy stuff.

I was just about to drift off into a nap and decided to snack on what was left of the Apple family's pie. The gloomy skies had given way to a light drizzle while I was waiting for a client to walk in, and the pitter-patter of raindrops against the wooden ceiling gently began guiding me to sleep. However, it was then that I heard the door creak open. The sound was followed by a cautious voice asking, "Mr. Gumshoe?"

I looked up from under my lowered fedora and saw that my door was slightly cracked open, with the freaking Mayor of Ponyville poking her head through it. She was a tan-hided mare with a decent amount of years under her belt, a silver streak of age running across the brown mane that clung to her face due to the rain. I immediately jolted upright and dusted off my vest.

"Miss Mayor! Yes, please, come in, don't stay out in the rain! I was just practicing… uh… my 'pretending to be asleep' strategy! Yes, you see, in case any of the criminal types try to… uh… sneak up on me and such. Lure them into a false sense of security and then surprise them, you understand."

The Mayor smirked and entered. She quickly shut the door behind her and whipped her head. "Yes, of course, Detective. In any case, I hope you'll forgive me interrupting one of your 'drills' for a…" she paused and let her face grow solemn before continuing, "Special assignment. One that I'd like to assign to you, on behalf of all of Ponyville."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Was something important stolen from City Hall? Is there a missing public official?"

"No, no, no. It wasn't a theft, burglary or a disappearance." She bit her lip. "I-it was a murder."

I cringed. Well, speak of the devil. Couldn't say I was all that shocked, though. Happens everywhere. But that didn't mean I had to like dealing with it. I quickly shook off my reaction. "Why did you come to me? I'm sure you know that-"

"- murder is the entire reason you left Manehattan to come here. Yes, I know, I read it on your record. But please, Mr. Gumshoe, you must! The normal officers won't do the job. Aside from a few finishing touches, they've already moved on to other cases." She paused, considering how to word her next question, before asking me, "Have you heard of the riot that happened late last night?"

I probably shouldn't have popped a piece of apple pie into my mouth before she asked that. Would've ended up with less gagging that way. Not only a murder, but a RIOT? In Ponyville? When it rains… "No. No, I didn't."

"Pfff," she scoffed, "some detective. I thought you were supposed to be 'in the know.'"

I frowned. "Hey, this is Ponyville we're talking about. You should know more than anypony else how much of a waste of time it'd be to constantly keep my ear to the ground for murders and riots. Besides, nopony I talked to on the way here even mentioned it. It wasn't even in the papers."

She nodded glumly. "Yes, I suppose the townspeople would rather ignore the whole incident than constantly prattle on about it."

"In a gossip's paradise like Ponyville? I highly doubt that."

That earned me a mean look from the Mayor. "Mister Gumshoe, I don't know what kind of ponies you've met in Manehattan, but we here in Ponyville do not have some sort of sick, morbid fascination with death, and we try our best to keep away from it."

I merely replied with a grunt and decided it best to change the subject. "So, was the riot caused by the, um… murder?"

She morosely shook her head, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Other way around… trampled."

I started rubbing my hoof against my forehead, but didn't let that make me miss a beat. "Any reason for the riot?"

"That's just it. There isn't one. City Hall and Canterlot both haven't made any decrees or policies that'd anger its citizens; they haven't for years. There are no controversial affairs happening right now either, nothing that'd spark protests or affirmative action. And, to make things even odder, everypony involved with the riot claims to have had no memory of it. Normally, we'd right that off as denying being part of a crime, but they all specifically described their vision going completely purple before coming to only a dozen feet or so from where they were standing."

"But a riot's a riot, and that's all the police need as a cause of death to wrap this up."

"Precisely." she said. I looked at her face. She looked utterly crestfallen. "Phil, listen. I know you aren't the most extroverted colt in town, and I know you probably have never even heard of the victims, but please. Put whoever killed them away. For the town, if not for me or them."

I exhaled and rubbed at my temples while she gave me the speech. But what she said before that was true, dammit. It did sound suspicious. And even worse, it had magic written all over it. Obviously, somepony wanted the two victims gone, and for the police to just shrug it off as a simple trample during a riot. He (or she) has two flaws in that plan, however. First, they chose to do it in Ponyville, one of the mellowest towns in Equestria. A riot would definitely raise suspicions.

Second mistake: s/he used magic. It seems like a good idea to use it. After all, it's so esoteric and mysterious that, on paper, it would seem to baffle the minds of anypony that tried to trace it. Problem was that it just isn't like that. Ever since I was a foal, I collected books and tomes about magic because I knew that, no matter what my purpose was, that magic would always prove to be an asset. One of the first things I learned was that magic represented life and everything that came with it: emotions, fears, instincts, hopes and dreams, everything. Technically, everypony had magic in them, it was just that only Unicorns and Allicorns could harness it (some scientists believe it's because our horns are specialized organs instead of just a part of our skeletal system, or some scientific horseradish like that).

In any case, a large portion of a pony's soul goes into using magic, even for basic stuff like telekinesis. Something that caused a riot? That'd take quite the mage; that much is certain. At least 40 years old, plenty of time to study magic for the sake of magic, and not for some specific occupation.

I caught myself in the middle of the thought process and put a bookmark on those thoughts. I'd better ask the Mayor for all the info I can squeeze out of her before I go off on a tangent. Facts first, speculation later.

I shook myself out of the pensive staring contest with the floor and returned my gaze to the Mayor. "Anything else suspicious about the incident?"

She nodded. "The victims. They knew each other. In fact, they were married. Pegasi named Lucy and Scooter."

I cringed before asking, "… They got a kid?"

"A two-year-old filly. Also a Pegasus. They named her Scootaloo."

"Celestia's blood," I muttered, "an orphan."

"She's being taken care of by the Cake family, momentarily." She continued. "They've been planning on building a second floor in their shop for a while now, but that'll still be a while. We're trying to find a more permanent and comfortable home for her."

I nodded briefly, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Anything else?"

She shook her head. "Not that I've gathered, no. The scene of the incidence is still closed to the public. It'll be open by tomorrow, though. An investigation there would prove useful."

"Why thank you, Mayor, for that pearl of wisdom." I drawled. "In exchange, let me give you an equally helpful piece of advice for re-election: tell the citizens of Ponyville that you want to make the town a better place."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hold back a silly grin. "Thanks, Phil."

I found myself grinning too, and shrugged. "Equal exchange, Mary."

A long pause crept up. I just sat there, pondering the case. Another murder. Fantastic. But it seemed simple enough. Find the mage, lock him up. It wasn't like experienced magicians were commonplace. Most ponies, especially in a town like Ponyville, were content to using their magic for just one thing, usually associated with whatever job they wanted to do when they grow up. Finding somepony who studied magic for the sake of magic wouldn't exactly be difficult.

But it wasn't the difficulty of the case that made me dread doing it. It was the aftermath. If I catch the mage, he can't give Scootaloo her parents back. If the mage resists, and I end up having to… kill him while he fights back, it isn't going to give me, Scoot, or anypony an ounce of satisfaction. Just another number for the body count, which was already two ponies higher than it should've been.

And yet, I thought, just curling up in my office, only taking the safe, non-emotional jobs… that wouldn't give Scoot her parents back either. And the mage would just get off scot-free, murder anypony s/he pleases. And me… how could I have any self-respect after turning something like this down? Rhetorical question. I already knew the answer.

While I was thinking about all this, the Mayor just leaned against the doorway, studying my face. She was no doubt reading my expressions while I was mulling everything over, trying to gauge them in order to see whether or not I'd take the case. I should've guessed that a politician'd be good at reading faces, for by the end of my train of thought, she had a confident smirk on her face. I rolled my eyes and pointed a hoof at her.

"Fine. But I'm gonna need some things for this case."

She nodded, not losing an ounce of smug in her expression. "But of course."

"First: I'm gonna need some documents. Info on the victims, as well as a census of Ponyville's citizens. I want every Unicorn that's set foot in this city within the past 3 days listed and in a manila envelope."

She nodded. "Done."

"Second," I continued, "I'm gonna need some sort of clearance to poke my nose in certain places. Gimme a badge or tell all the policecolts I'm in the clear, I don't care how. I just don't want any flak when I go to the victim's house or to the scene of the crime. They all associate me with finding lost junk, so I'm gonna need somepony high up – you – to tell them to take me seriously for the next week or two."

"Of course." She replied. "I'll let everyone on the force know that you're investigating a case."

"Something tells me that won't help much," I murmured. Cops and detectives didn't like each other much. Sort of a competitive thing. And when you're a detective whose only track-record in town consisted of finding lost stuff? Then they don't like or respectyou. "And third: my rate. I'm gonna have to charge 20 bits an hour, 8 hours a day, excluding the day I solve the case."

"That's double your average price."

"And this is about 20 times as serious as most cases I'm given. Be thankful I'm giving you a 10:1 seriousness-to-bits ratio."

She rolled her eyes and surrendered. "Fine, fine. Just, please, get this figured out as soon as possible. Lucy and her husband were good ponies. They didn't deserve what happened to them."

"Lucy and Scooter don't have anything to complain about. Scootaloo does."

That earned me a cold glare from her. Okay, maybe it was harsh to say, but it was true. Death is never unfortunate for the ponies that die. Ponies can't understand that when you die, you die. Nerve and brain cells deteriorate. No nerves, no pain. It is, however, unfortunate for the ponies left behind, and everypony knows it. Of course, ponies don't like being told so curtly that when they mourn a friend, they're really just feeling sorry for themselves, not actually feeling sad for the deceased. That, coupled with the fact that I sort of implied she didn't care about Scootaloo, probably made me look like a total mule. Eh. Looking like a total mule is definitely something that I

Regardless of the tension I had so thoughtfully brought to the room, the Mayor cleared her throat after about a minute of silence and said in a very polite tone, "Well then, Mr. Gumshoe. I do believe we're done here. You'll find your requested documents in your office's mailbox by tomorrow morning. You know City Hall's number if you need my assistance. Just say your name and my secretary will forward you to me immediately." She bowed her head and began to exit my office. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Gumshoe. Also… keep this case to yourself. I have a feeling whoever did this will be a tad paranoid, so try not to let on what you and I think caused this riot. Not to anypony."

" 'Course. Discretion is the better part of valor, et cetera."

She nodded. "Good luck, Phil." And with that, she left. From what I could see and hear when she opened and closed the door, the drizzle had evolved into a full-on monsoon. Sheets of cold water pelted against the cobblestone of the plaza. During the Mayor and I's discussion, everypony in the square had cleared out. Once she left, I just sat there, running some facts through my head. A Unicorn, 40 years of age, at least, that was insanely talented at magic. And, for some reason or another, he had a connection to the Scoot family. Once I got that list, I could use the first two traits to my advantage. But that'd have to wait until tomorrow. In the mean time, I'd have to do some snooping around. And, to my dismay, I had to do it now. Though the spell, whatever it was, would leave a lot of leftover magic, it had already been half a day since it was cast. I'd have to hurry before the entire residue faded away.

I groaned and trotted to the coat rack that sat in my office's corner, glaring at my yellow raincoat. I hate the rain. I hate being cold. But I hate seeing ponies get killed too. I hate seeing foals, wide-eyed and happy, completely unaware of the fact that their chance of living a normal life was just ripped away from them as easily and quickly as pages from an old book. And worst of all, I hated seeing nopony pay for it.

I used my telekinesis to slip on the rubbery thing, and marched off to the door. A storm. A riot. A murder. An orphan. And a psychotic wizard that was running loose in a near defenseless town that was none the wiser of his existence. I inhaled slowly, flipped the coat's hood over my head with a small dab of telekinesis, and walked out into the torrent. When it rains, it pours.


	2. Chapter 2

One of the things I admire most about Ponyville, aside from its lack of crime, is its unconditional cheeriness. The bright colors of the buildings and plants and rivers stood out even amongst the worst situations, adding a bit of whimsy to them. Even the day of that terrible storm when the clouds looked sunken and gray, almost as if they were letting out waves of rain in sobs, the town stood tall and happy, seeming to ignore the depressing weather attacking it. And that made my trek through this depression slightly more bearable.

Sheets of raindrops pelted against my coat as I pushed through the insanely strong gusts of wind that carried them. I even had to go so far as to leaning forward as I trotted to the scene of the cri-… aw, horseapples. I didn't ask the Mayor where the incident happened. I had no idea where I was going.

I sighed, angry and ashamed at my own stupidity, and began looking around for somepony to ask for directions. Finding a pony that knew where the riot happened wouldn't be too difficult. Ponyville is quaint, but infamous for its wildfire rumors and gossip. It would, however, be VERY difficult to find somepony insane enough to be out in this downpour like I was. After several minutes of sprinting around town and searching, I finally found a mare sitting beneath an awning, looking up at the sky with clear disdain.

I quickly joined her underneath and leaned against the wall of the building the awning was attached to. I shivered and refrained from shaking all of the water off, just standing there and letting the water drip down my skin. It was much less pleasant, but much more courteous. I kept my vision focused ahead and asked the mare, "Don't mind if I dry off a bit here, do you?"

" 'Course not! It's totally fine."

I could barely stop myself from giggling my flank off at the sound of the filly's voice. In the span of those 5 words, her voice had cracked twice, forming a very humorous combination with her awkward, teenage vocal chords. I looked over at the stranger to get a better look at her. The Pegasus couldn't have been a day over 13. Her legs were even scrawnier and awkwardly disproportionate with their torso than Big Mac's. She had a baby blue hide and, I kid you not, a rainbow-colored mane. She probably dyed it that way; kids often pulled weird stuff like that to be "different" and to "embrace their inner individual", or some horseradish like that. Damned kids these days.

As I noticed her features, I failed to realize that she was giving me a rather heated scowl, going so far as to narrow her eyes to add to the effect. "And what exactly was so funny?" she practically accused. Yet again, her voice cracked, and this time I couldn't control myself. I burst out laughing. Yeah, sure, we call go through that phase in life and it's hypocritical to laugh at it, but it's still pretty darn funny.

Fortunately, I managed to apologize, in the midst of laughing at the filly for hitting puberty. And they say I don't have class. "Heh, s-sorry. I didn't know you were a teen. It's just… *chuckle* your voice. Found the cracking funny."

She angrily blushed and kicked me in the shin. It probably would've hurt if I hadn't been a seasoned detective that'd taken a few beatings back in the day. And it would've hurt even more if she wasn't scrawny. Instead of the satisfying "Ouch!" she was no doubt expecting, she only found the gesture to make me laugh even harder.

She huffed in frustration and turned the other way, bitterly murmuring, "Jerk."

The sincere embarrassment and anger in her voice sobered me up. Way to be a model good guy, Gumshoe. I cleared my throat and threw as much earnest into my apology as I could. "Seriously though, I am sorry. It was very immature of me to react like that, especially since you can't help it. I apologize."

Somehow, she managed to change her expression and attitude entirely in the span of a few seconds. I'm pretty sure that's a skill fillies develop when they get into their teens. She looked back at me like I was crazy. "Sheesh, dude, no need to get so serious. You just laughed at my voice. You didn't call me names or stuff like that. Chillax."

I internally cringed, just a bit. Great. Teenage lingo. I could already tell this was going to be a fun conversation. My mental complaint was interrupted by a question that took me quite by surprise.

"Say… you're that detective guy, right?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. Somepony actually heard of me? And referred to me as a detective, and not "the lost-and-found guy"? I liked this kid already. "Ummm… yes. But how do you know that?"

"My friends in this town were talking about which pony here was the most introverted. Your name was mentioned here and there."

I frowned. Resident Grouch, I could deal with, but Resident Introvert? I reiterate: damned kids these days. I cleared my throat, trying not to look too bothered. "I prefer the term, 'enigmatic', thank you very much."

"Hey, they mentioned you, not me." She said defensively. A brief pause passed before she turned back to me and asked, "So… how good are you at your job?"

"At detecting?"

"No, at baking pies. Yes, at detecting, you dolt."

I snorted. "I only ask because there's not really a unit of measurement for detective skills."

She grinned, fortunately. It was a relief to see somepony who enjoyed sarcasm from both sides. "Aw, c'mon, Mister Gumshoe. Detectives make observations and stuff, right? Why don't you observe someone and make an inference or deduction about them, or something."

"Wow. I don't think I've ever heard someone describe my job even half as badly as you just did. I think that may actually make me want to quit. Take up basket-weaving or something." She scoffed, but I continued. "Fortunately for you, I understand what you mean. And I already made an observation while I've been standing here." I looked at her and frowned. "You're here to visit their kid, aren't you?"

Her eyes widened, but the sweat on her brow made it obvious that it was due to amazement and a small amount of fear instead of confusion. "Kid? Whose kid?"

"Alrighty then," I began, "let's take it from the top. First off: you ain't from Ponyville, kid. Any average Joe can see that. Your accent reeks of Cloudsdale. In addition, you said, 'My friends in this town'. 'This town' implies that you don't live here because, if you did, you would've just said, 'My friends'. So, therefore, it can be assumed that you're a Cloudsdale Pegasus visiting this town for who-knows-what reason. Am I wrong for making this deduction?"

She nervously shook her head and I continued. "And then there's the fact that you're hanging around this bakery. There are plenty of bakeries in Cloudsdale, aren't there? I know Mr. and Mrs. Cake make some good pastries, but I doubt that they're worth travelling all the way here from Cloudsdale."

"Now hold on!" She interjected. "I didn't visit this place on purpose! I was just caught in the rain and came under here for shelter, just like you!"

I snorted. "So, you magically got completely dry from the storm that started not even 10 minutes ago? Even if you shook yourself dry, at the very least, your hair would still be soaked. And yet, here you are, bone-dry. That can only mean that you've gone inside the building, at the time of, if not before, the storm's beginning."

She started to retort but I continued anyways. It's rude, I know, but when you get on a roll like this it's hard to stop. "And that brings up another matter entirely. Why were you out here, underneath the sunshade? You could easily loiter in the bakery, where there's a nice, toasty oven and fireplace. Yet, instead, you hang around outside, staring out into the rain. Seems like something somepony with a lot to think about would do."

"Okay, so what!" She defensively replied. "I'm visiting the bakery and I happen to have a lot to think about. What's that got to do with some kid?"

"Very early this morning, only a little past midnight, two Pegasi were trampled by a very suspicious riot in which all the nearby ponies were enthralled in an almost rage-induced state. The confusion only lasted about a minute, but that was plenty of time to kill the victims, who were a married couple. Their names were Scooter and Lucy. They were both in their early-30s and had a child, a 2-year-old filly named Scootaloo. She's currently being held in the custody of Mr. and Mrs. Cake until either an adoptive family or an orphanage is found for her. So, I can only wonder what a Pegasus, who seems saddened and lost in thought, is doing loitering around this particular bakery on the day that they took in the kid."

One of the perks of being a detective was being able to lay down a deductive smack-down on people, piecing together little bits and pieces of facts to form a whole story and background to something. It's like a magic trick, but with common sense instead of a wand.

The poor filly looked down at the ground and kicked some dirt off of the pavement in front of the door. "… Huh. So that's how good you are."

Nice. First I laugh at her for going through puberty and then I completely invade her privacy. Way to go, cop. I sighed and shook my head. "… Sorry. I went and invaded your privacy. It's none of my business what you're doing here. Look, I've just been making a mule of myself the entire time I've been drying off under here, and the rain looks like it's letting up, so I think I'm just gonna get out of your hair."

I trotted off as fast as I could, completely ashamed of myself. This is why I keep to myself in my office, only interacting with clients. I either act distant, coming off as a bit cold, or I go way too personal and violate about a million boundaries. I blame being raised in the big city. Makes you go a little loopy.

In any case, I trotted off into the small drizzle that was what remained of the storm. In fact, it wasn't even drizzling. It was simply leftover water in the trees or on the rooftops of the town's buildings lazily dripping into the gutters and onto the dirt below. The clouds made the small change from depressing black to melancholy gray, and a little bit of sunshine was penetrating a hole in their defenses. I smiled at my good luck. Better weather, more ponies outside. More ponies outside, the sooner I could get some directions to the crime scene.

As I continued trotting forward, turning my head now and then to look for anypony that had already taken advantage of the weather letting up, I felt a front leg extend in front of me to stop me from proceeding. It didn't take much thought to figure whose leg it was. I looked down at the filly levelly and muttered, "Listen, kid. I have to go, now. There's a very important case I have to work, and I have no clue where the whole thing's gone down. So that means, I have to walk around on this depressing day and find somepony to give me directions. And I'm kind of on a time crunch, so I do not have time to play tag with some filly. Now, please step aside, pipsqueak."

"It's about Scoot's parents, isn't it?"

I raised an eyebrow and put on my best pokerface, another skill developed in the detective trade. "Why in Equestria would I investigate that? The policecolts are already almost wrapped up on that case."

"Which is why you know so much about what happened, right? Because you just happened to be informed on the police's business so thoroughly, that you could probably write a report with all the stuff you just said."

I cringed. She had a point, unfortunately. I tried to find a rebuttal, but she cut me off before I could. She craned her neck to give herself the illusion of being taller and gave me a look far too solemn for someone her age to have any business making. "Listen. I won't tell anyone about this. But I want to help put whatever sicko did this in jail, however I can. Scootaloo's parents helped me out of several jams, and they were pretty much my own Mom and Dad, they helped me so much. I can't just sit around and watch you do this all alone. I can help you. Just… please, let me."

I exhaled when she finished. I really shouldn't have. That pretty much proved to her that she was right. Still, I had to try. "Listen, pipsqueak, you're making a huge assumption here, and I'm telling you now, it's wrong." She gave me a nasty frown and shook her head, so I quickly amended, "Fine. You're right, that's what this case is about. But I still don't even know if this was a murder or not."

"I don't care." She quickly stated. "I either want to help you if it is, or I want to be there when you prove it's not."

"Listen, pipsqueak," I began to gnash my teeth, "this isn't some game where we look around town for the 'bad pony' and when we find him, he puts his hooves up and surrenders. If Scoot and Lucy were murdered, they'd have been murdered by a powerful unicorn, probably more powerful than me. He'd have the ability to control a whole group of ponies' thoughts. He'd be a dangerous sociopath and I'll be DAMNED if I let some kid hobble around behind me while I look for, or, Celestia-forbid, confront him. So the answer is no. Absolutely not. Go. Home. Now."

I walked away, but only for a few seconds. "… I know where the scene of the crime is."

Dammit.

I trotted back to her in a flash and kneeled so that our eyes were level. I glared at her with all the passion I had. I was in no way amused by what kind of manure she was trying to pull. "Then you're going to tell me. Now. I'm not going to play any games with you, pipsqueak. You tell me where, or I'm arresting your flank for withholding information from an officer of the law."

"Pfffff," she scoffed, "I'm a minor. I'll be in trouble for, what, a day? And it looks to me that you don't have time to ask anypony else, let alone arrest me and ask anypony else." She donned the most smug grin I'd ever seen. It really, really ticked me off. "So I guess you don't have any choice, do you?"

She was right. Time was of the essence. After a few moments' hesitation, I sighed and nodded, accepting defeat with much more grace than I expected. "… Fine. Sure. Welcome to the PI-life, pipsqueak. But I require one demand. And if you break it, even once, I am going to drag your sorry flank to juvenile hall, or wherever it is I take you, myself. Understand?"

She nodded solemnly, so I continued. "You do as I say, got it pipsqueak? When I say it, how I say it, where I say it. No hesitation, no forethought. When I give you a command, you do it. You are now my Watson. You are to observe, to assist via speculation and suggestion, or by any other means. But you're still a kid, and I'm NOT going to have your blood on my hooves."

She nodded once more. "Gotcha."

"Uh-uh," I shook my head, "'Gotcha' ain't good enough, pipsqueak. You gotta swear on it." I lifted my right-front hoof, the bottom of it facing upward, and spat on it, offering to her. "In exchange, I swear to treat you with the respect that you deserve and keep you in the loop on this case the entire time. Deal?"

She smirked, not even disturbed by my gesture and followed suit, slamming her wet hoof against mine. "Deal." She then took off to the skies and darted north. "C'mon," she shouted back, "I'll lead you to where it happened!"

I'd like to say, for my pride's sake, that I kept up with the Pegasus three-fourths my size that was most likely still in flight school. However, I am a terrible liar when I'm not on the job. So, I'll take the high road and simply say that I was very tired that day and that Granny Smith's pie made me oh-so drowsy, for I was completely out of breath when I caught up with her. She stopped above a plaza in northeastern Ponyville, down the street from City Hall. It usually boasted a small market, but it was entirely bare, save guards that were posted where three streets connected to the plaza. There were two guards for each street, every one of them holding a firm position at their posts.

I walked up to the two guarding the street we arrived through and bowed my head. I always pay my respects to the officers of the law, even if the ones in Ponyville weren't exactly hardened, troubled souls, like the ones in Manehattan or Fillydelphia. They nodded at me and shifted slightly to signify that I could go past them. Mary may be a politician, but what keeps her coming back to her office each year is that she never fails to keep a promise. I nodded in thanks and trotted onward, or at least tried to. Their front legs darted in front of me before pointing at Rainbow Dash accusingly, matching their disapproving glares. They settled their eyes on me, demanding an explanation. Or telling me to get her the hell out. That's what stinks about being silent. Communication errors all over the place.

Either way, I shrugged. "She's with me. My assistant. I need her for this case."

Their expressions didn't change, nor did the position of their front legs. I snarled, "Listen. I don't have time for your intimidation manure. I have a case to do and she helped me by telling me the location of the crime scene, which the Mayor so thoughtfully forgot to tell me. She's also going to serve as my thinking-buddy. Either the kid comes with, or neither of us goes in, got it? And you better decide fast, bud. The evidence here's literally fading away by the second, so I'm kind of in a hurry here. Now, either turn me away and close the case now, or let me in and do my DAMNED job."

Their posture didn't change. No way in hell would a couple of stout policeponies be scared of a scrawny PI like me. I don't qualify much in the intimidation department. Not unless I use magic, anyways. But I save chucking a lightning bolt at the sky for punks. Trying to pull that manure on them would be suicide. Although they obviously weren't scared, they did pick up on the conviction of my statement. They knew that I meant what I said, and their faces betrayed their looming stance. One of them sighed in frustration and nodded to the other guard. Finally, they stepped aside and let me through, though out of the corner of my eye, I could see them give the kid a dirty glance as she glided by.

I heard her wings quicken their flapping speed as she caught up to me. She landed on the ground and followed close behind me as I walked to the center of the plaza. "That was really cool of you. Thanks."

"Eh." I said. "I think I could've been a bit more intimidating. If there was another unicorn detective for them to call up, I'd have been bucked."

"I mean about letting me in. You could've just said I was some annoying kid or something and gone on without me, but you risked your job just to keep our promise. Just sayin' that's cool, is all."

"Don't flatter yourself, pipsqueak. Would've done that for anypony. See, I don't just toss out promises like candy. If I say I'll do something, I'll do it, and keeping you in the loop on this happens to be one of those things."

I heard an aggravated sigh. "You can't just take a compliment, can you?"

"Of course I can," I grinned, "it's just that it's a very boring way to respond to one."

After a few minutes of trotting, we arrived to the exact scene of the crime. It was at the northwestern corner of the plaza, near one of the streets that connect to it, and was right in front of a water fountain. An area with a radius of several feet was particularly dirtier and messier than the rest of the plaza. Assorted objects were still knocked over. Streetlights were still broken. Hoofprints were still visible on the ground. It was as if nothing had touched the entire scene. And amongst all of the chaos, right smack-dab in the middle of it, there were two outlines of sprawled, quadruped figures on the ground, drawn in clear, white chalk.

I stopped right outside of the "messy circle" and brooded over the scene, looking around for the little yellow tags left behind by forensics. As I expected, there were none. Those usually only came into equicide cases. And this was just a simple riot. In a town that's never had one before. During a time in which the princess hasn't made any laws or decrees that's made anypony angry or upset. Sure, why not?

The filly interrupted my thoughts. "Why hasn't anypony cleaned up the mess around here?"

She was about to walk onto the circle when I immediately stopped her by extending my front-right leg. "Forensics, young grasshopper." I turned to see her giving me an obtuse look, but whether it was because she never watched Kung Fu starring David Carrequine or if it was because she didn't know who forensics were, I didn't know.

I decided to explain the more relevant source of confusion. "Forensics are the ponies in charge of gathering evidence at a crime scene and giving it to the policeponies responsible for the case. A big pet peeve for them is stepping all over their crime scene or, even worse, cleaning it. It destroys hoofprints, hair and blood samples, and could lead to important articles of evidence getting shuffled around. And when you're piecing together a complex puzzle like them – and me – the place where everything's found is extremely important." I lowered my leg. "So let's keep our distance, alright? They tend to get really touchy about somepony stepping all over their scene."

She seemed to understand what I said well enough, and nodded. "Gotcha."

I nodded back. "Besides," I turned back to the scene and lowered my head, closing my eyes, "we're at a perfectly good distance for what I came here to do, anyhow."

"What're ya gonna do?"

"Shhhh," was all I could muster as a reply. I had already started the process of gathering all of my concentration and willpower. One by one, my senses focused less on my surroundings. The sound of a gushing stream of water, coming from the fountain, was slowly drowned out by silence. The mental image of the crime scene, the chaos punctuated with the clean chalk-marks, gradually faded to black. The feel of the moisture in the post-rain air, the lingering taste on my tongue of Apple Acre's Apple Pie, the smell of the calm, fragrant spring breeze rustling the plaza, all of these sensations within my environment dissipated entirely. In that nothingness, my mind was in its purest zenith. I had completed my meditation.

You see, when you perform a higher-end spell, you really have to FEEL the spell; you have to believe in it. You need to put into it your faith, your will to perform it, and all of the emotions that apply to the spell. Lower-end spells, like telekinesis, can simply be used with a basic desire to move something. You don't have to invest much else. However, when you're tracing magic to its source, after several hours of wear-and-tear? That was a spell's spell. And such a spell requires so much focus and will, even the slightest physical distraction could tamper, and most likely ruin, the attempt at performing the spell. And if I were to fail, considering the magnitude of this spell, it would literally blow up in my face. And trust me, for I speak with experience: magical explosions are much worse than normal ones.

Fortunately, my good ol' Watson had enough sense to respect my wishes, despite not getting any explanation whatsoever from me, and I had no problem placing all of my will into one neat little pile. It was time-consuming, sure, but it wasn't all that difficult. I then focused on extending all of that will outward. I imagined myself extending little magic-antennas, feeling around for a taste of magic leftovers from last night's ruckus.

I expected to find a small scrap of magic residue or, if there was no magic involved, nothing. I was so very wrong.

When one's body gets overloaded by magic, the sensation that occurs is hard to explain. It's like being a foal with asthma and suddenly getting tossed into a room full of thick, humid, stagnant air. There was just too much essence for my mind and body to take. My brain felt like it was getting slammed several times with a hammer, rhythmically experiencing a terribly painful pounding sensation about two times a second. Meanwhile, in the physical world, I opened my eyes to find myself on the ground, recoiling from the sheer pain. Every muscle in my body was tensed and my spine curled to place my whole body in the fetal position, shivering all the while. My teeth were so forcefully clenched that it took a decent amount of mental effort to make them stop.

Above me, the pipsqueak was staring down at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, completely unsure of what to do. "M-Mister Gumshoe! A-are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

By the time she asked this, I was already getting myself together again. The muscles in my jaw, as well as everywhere else, began to unlock and relax. I took deep breaths, inhaling through my nostrils and exhaling through my mouth. My shivering began to lessen, as did the stabbing pain in my head. When I put enough of myself back together so that I could speak, I cleared my throat.

"Yeah." My voice came out surprisingly raspy. I probably shouted when the proverbial cannonball hit me. "Just… j-just give me a minute."

She simply nodded and walked over to a nearby bench to sit, making sure not to walk onto the crime-scene. I just sat there, partially recovering from the minor nervous breakdown I went through, and partially collecting my thoughts. This changed quite a few things, to be sure. Magic was absolutely involved, no doubt about it. The mage in question used a frenzy spell on the group of ponies that were in the square last night. It would take a lot of magic, but surely not THIS much. Whoever did this, they had raw power with a capital P. The nebula of pure magic was what I found around 17 hours after the riot. Imagine what I would've found an hour ago, or even sooner. I focused my mind on a much more pleasant subject.

Let's start with the pros of what's happened: I know that magic was involved. I know that my theory of a grizzled, old unicorn doing it is true as well. It had to be. No fledgling wizard, even a prodigy, could dish out that kind of magic without help. Even the possibility of a beginner prodigy getting a fluke was unlikely. The fact that the victims were so familiar with each other could only imply that the riot was meant specifically for them. And in order to be able to specifically target a group of people in particular, one would require concentration and finesse.

Which brings me to the cons: I would have to face a hardened battlemage unicorn… an equicidal, hardened battlemage unicorn. Now, I'm no pushover when it comes to magic. As I've said earlier, I've been studying magic since I was a foal, and have a solid 30 years' worth of coagulated knowledge under my belt. But for a wizard, 30 years is still a bit young and I had a long way to go before I'd call myself an expert on it. I've given myself the title "Journeyman". Not too snobby a title, but not too humble either. In any case, I'm pretty darned good at slinging spells. But, as it's been established, the fallout of this pony's spell put me in the fetal position. That scared me, truly it did. But, dammit all, I was the only pony that could do this. The policeponies around here were used to thefts and the occasional pony drinking a wee bit too much milk and going crazy out on the streets. They sure as hell weren't prepared for a sociopathic unicorn. I could call in more experienced policeponies, perhaps from Manehattan, or even a few elite guards from Canterlot. But that would take a bit of explanation and a few days of travel for the reinforcements to arrive. Ponyville didn't have that time as a luxury.

I sighed and began walking to the bench the pipsqueak was sitting on. Looks like I was on my own… kind of. I had a rambunctious Pegasus that didn't know the first thing about detecting and having normal-colored hair. And, really, who needs several score years of experience, hundreds of spells memorized, and wits and wisdom sharpened by age, when you have that?

"C'mon, pipsqueak," I called to her when I reached hailing distance, "we're heading to the library."

"Right!" She flew up from the bench and floated above and behind me as I walked out of the plaza. I gave the two policecolts departing nod before drifting back into thought, which was interrupted by a query form the pipsqueak, once we were out of the policecolts' earshot. "So, like… what happened back there! You looked like you had a heart attack or something!"

"Magic backlash." I replied. "Tried to track the spell to its source, get a feel on the unicorn's aura, his magical fingerprint, if you will. Unfortunately, the spell had way more oomph than I thought it did. Expected a small scrap of magic energies that I had to focus really hard in order to find. Instead, I ended up doing the magical equivalent of taking a deep breath in a room full of thick smoke. Not good for the mind, or the body."

"So, you almost… died?"

"Nah. Magic residue's never that powerful. I was pretty close to having my brain just snap from all the pressure though. Would've gone loony and never came back." I shivered at the thought. "If I had been there an hour earlier, I probably would have gone loony… It's odd. In a way, you saved me from going insane. Had I not wasted a good half-hour arguing with you and trying to make you go away, I probably wouldn't have been able to handle the amount of magic at the crime scene."

"Well, heh, I mean, c'mon now, it was just an accident. A, uh, a coincidence, ya know?" She stumbled with her words. I didn't have to look behind my shoulder to know that she was blushing at the accusation.

I snorted. "Kid. When you work in my profession for as long as I have, you begin to accept that there are no coincidences in life. Things happen for a reason. By the way," I stopped and turned to face her, "after all that's happened today, I still don't know your name. Mind if I ask, pipsqueak?"

"Oh! My bad, I totally forgot!" She scratched the back of her before placing her front hoof on her chest in a boastful manner. "Name's Rainbow Dash! Yes, that's right, the one and only Rainbow Dash!"

I rolled my eyes. Oh, the arrogance of a teenage Pegasus, how endless art thou? I decided to take the high road and not respond with a snarky comeback. "Rainbow Dash, huh? Well… thank you. And I'm sorry I tried to keep you out of this. You seem a level-headed sort, and it was wrong for me to assume that you're just a dumb kid right off the bat."

She shrugged. "Hey, no problem. In your defense, most kids are pretty stupid." She resumed her prideful pose. "Your's truly being an exception, of course."

"Of course." I drawled. "But listen to me. You need to know that this is much worse than I expected. Much, much worse. Whoever's done this is experienced. He knows what he's doing and he has a lot of raw magic in his system to back it up. To be honest… I… I'm pretty sure I won't beat him if I have to confront him."

"So," she replied instantly, "you're gonna need some serious back-up." She pointed at herself. "And I believe I am just the filly for the job. You distract him with your magic and stuff, and I fly up to him and – KAPOW! – I kick him in the face!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. It was because I realized that there wasn't any convincing her. Despite her age and demeanor, Dash wasn't just following me around for kicks. She was in this for an entirely more serious reason; more serious than mine, in fact. She was in this for revenge, for closure. Scooter and Lucy were apparently ponies that helped her all throughout her life, though exactly how, I can only guess. And then somepony came along and trampled them and, to make matters worse, they were dangerously close to getting away with it scot-free. Hell, they would have gotten away with it, had it not been for a nosy Mayor and an equally nosy detective unicorn.

I lifted my lower jaw back up and simply smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me." I turned and continued walking toward the library. "C'mon, pipsqueak! We still got a ways to go."

"Right behind ya!"

And with that, my partner and I proceeded to the library, completely aware of how in over our heads we were, but far too stubborn to care.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, why are we going to the library again?"

"Research, grasshopper." I opened the door of the massive, hollowed oak that housed Ponyville's library with my telekinesis and allowed Dash to enter first. "Since there was way too much magic to track the guy, my next best course of action is to read up on thresholds and go on the defensive until I figure something out."

She turned her head and gave me a confused look. "Thresholds?"

I nodded. "Defenses made by magic, for magic. Different kinds of spells need different kinds of shields. Something that'd protect you from a fireball to the face wouldn't do diddly against an attempt at mind-control. It all takes different kinds of foci, different languages and dialect for incantations, and different emotions and convictions to set up each threshold. It takes a lot of power to set up, but fortunately, doesn't take too much finesse."

"Huh," was all she could reply with before turning back and entering the library. I followed close behind, sighing in response to her lack of understanding. I hate being the only wizard in town.

Now, Ponyville may not be as big a settlement as Fillydelphia or Manehattan, and yet it still manages to be called a major city of Equestria. What most ponies don't know is the reason why, and that reason is that Ponyville's library has one of the most extensive collections of literature in all of Equestria, and even beyond that. Scholars and professors come from all over to check out Ponyville's massive selection of texts, which ranges from philosophical essays and ancient spell tomes to children's stories and cook books. And it was all thanks to a way-too-devoted earth pony named Paperback. Paperback was only 25 the day Dash ad I visited him, but had spent 10 years, almost half of his life, in Ponyville's library. He started as an assistant to the former owner of the place which, at the time, was a speck of what it is now. However, when the former owner left for Trottingham to become a teacher, Paperback was left in charge of the place. And when he got the position, he set up shop.

After setting up a budget on how much of the library's funds he could spend on maintenance and bills, he saved up the rest of it to hire a bunch of Pegasi to go all across Equestria and get him contacts and sources. Ponies, zebras, impalas, buffalo, griffins, and even some dragons out there that preferred the quill over the claw; Paperback set up a trading circle with contacts from every civilized society you could think of, and even more civilized societies you _couldn't_ think of. The result was a boom in business for the library, and some ponies would call the chain of events a literary Renaissance for Equestria. I was one of those ponies. I mean, just imagine it: writings from all over the world, from dozens upon dozens of races and kingdoms, all coagulating in one, single location. That amount of information is… staggering, to say the least.

In any case, Paperback and I were good pals. I first met him about a month after I moved to Ponyville and we've been good friends since. We made it tradition to go out every Friday for a drink over at the Milk Bar near Sugarcube Corner, and he's even been nice enough to send any decent tomes - the fastest way for any unicorn to learn a spell - my way. He was a good colt, and I was honored to not repulse him on sight, let alone be called his friend.

After a few dozen steps, we were greeted by him. He rolled across a bookshelf on one of those tall ladders on wheels, and was standing almost at the top. He was a yellow-hided colt and had a short, clean-cut brown mane that was hidden beneath a black bowler hat sitting atop his head in a tilted, roguish style. Dangling from his neck was a thickly threaded necklace holding a silver pentagram. He grinned at the sight of me and Rainbow, and hopped down the ladder and landed in front of us with a thud.

"Well now, if it isn't Phillip! I told you we haven't received any new tomes this week, so you must be here for some other reason." He bowed his head and smiled. "How may I assist you?"

I returned the gesture with a nod. "I'm here to study thresholds. Got any good books about 'em?"

"Thresholds?" Paperback arched an eyebrow. "You've never shown interest in them before. Have you received some kind of special case involving them?"

"Nah. Just thought I'd look into them a bit. They sound interesting, but all I know are the basics."

He eyed me for a minute, then shrugged. "Of course. Any particular type of spell whose threshold you're studying? Destruction? Thaumaturgy? Conjuration? Alt-"

"Thaumaturgy, please." I held up a hoof and interrupted him. Never let a nerd go on a tangent.

"The heck's thaumaturgy?" Rainbow Dash piped up.

"In the old days, it meant magic performing miracles." I said. "However, nowadays, it's pretty much any type of ritual magic, usually involving circles, shapes and runes being drawn on the ground. Because of all the time and effort it takes, its arguably the most potent type of magic."

"Huh. So it's, like, the nicest form of magic?"

"That's not what I said, pipsqueak. I said the most potent, the most powerful. Thaumaturgy refers to any magic performed during rituals," I frowned, "which also includes live sacrifices and mind control, among other nasty voodoo stuff."

Dash's eyes widened as she gulped and nodded slowly. "O-oh."

Meanwhile, Paperback smiled approvingly at me. "Very good, Phillip! You're quite educated in the magical arts."

I brushed some imaginary dust off my chest. "Yeah, well. You don't become Ponyville's _greatest_ wizard by collecting bottle caps, you know."

Rainbow Dash scoffed. "Oh puh-lease. You're Ponyville's _only_ wizard."

"Shut it, pipsqueak," I said, "or I'll turn you into a toad or something." After a few minutes' processing, I glared at her. "And who are you calling old?"

We continued arguing for a few minutes and, in the background, Paperback was simply cracking up, causing both of us to turn our heads and simultaneously shout, **"THE HECK ARE **_**YOU**_** LAUGHING AT!"**

Paperback forced his lips together to smother the laughter, and after a minute he could finally reply. "N-nothing. Just the dichotomy between you two. Speaking of which," he turned his attention to me and raised his brow again, "Phillip, I thought you stated that Lotus and yourself bore no children?"

"Eh?" I grunted, then pointed a hoof at Rainbow. "She ain't my kid, PB. In case you've forgotten, neither Lotus nor I have a baby blue hide."

Paperback simply shrugged. "Many foals don't inherit their hide color, or even their mane color from their parents. It's quite common, actually. The fact that foals with a mane or hide differing from their parents' are illegitimate is an unfortunately common misnomer."

I shook my head. "Whatever. Just don't assume. You're smart enough to know what it does to 'u' and 'me'."

"But of course." He turned and trotted in a direction parallel to the entrance. "Come. The section of the library devoted to spells and thresholds is this way."

Dash and I followed Paperback in silence, the pipsqueak craning her neck back and forth, no doubt marveling at the sheer variety the place had, and me pensively staring at the ground as I trotted, trying to plan where exactly to place the thresholds. It wasn't that difficult to figure out, just all of the places where a bunch of ponies would be, like marketplaces and schools and the like. But it'd take a while to cover all that ground.

Paperback stopped at a massive shelf that took up an impressive amount of wall. In front of it, hanging from the ceiling on a chain was a wooden sign saying, in large letters, "SPELLS, ENCHANTMENTS AND MAGICAL LORE."

Paperback turned to face us and cleared his throat. "Well, then. Here we are. I trust you won't be needing my assistance to find whatever kind of book you're looking for?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No thanks, PB. I can take it from here." I bowed slightly. "But thank you. You've been very helpful."

I lightly jabbed Rainbow's side to make her do the same. She quickly bowed and said. "Um, yeah, thanks a ton!"

Paperback chuckled. "You're quite welcome, the both of you. Normally, the library has no closing hours, but I must ask you to leave by approximately midnight. I will be visiting some Griffon scholars in Talos and I must leave early in the morning tomorrow. I hope you understand."

I raised my head and nodded. "Of course. I'll see you next Friday, alright?"

He trotted off to the upstairs part of the library, his quarters, with a grin.

… … …

We studied the many threshold-based texts the arcane section of the library had to offer for a couple hours. Or, more accurately, _I_ studied the threshold-based texts, while Rainbow Dash took a nap in one of the library chairs. Though, actually, I found a bit of relief in her laziness. I preferred being alone – even technically – when reading up, especially when it involves a case. Unfortunately, the lonely bliss only lasted a little over two hours, and after 30 minutes of consciousness my ever-helpful assistant began whining.

"Ughhhhh, this is so boooooring!" she groaned. She sat in the library chair she fell asleep in, fidgeting and upside down, dangling her hind legs over the back of the of the chair.

"You want something to do?" I didn't bother raising my head from the book I was currently studding, grabbed a random book from the pile of ones I haven't read and threw it at her. "Read."

She stumbled when she caught it, the toss taking her by surprise, and opened the book, flipping through some of its pages. "B-but, the section about Thaumawhater's a hundred and fifty-something pages long!"

"Imagine that," I drawled, "books written by wizards have a lot of stuff in them."

"Aw, c'mon! There's gotta be _something_ I can do to help, other than," she interrupted herself with a shudder, "reading."

I exhaled and looked up from the book I was attempting to read. After a few seconds' thought, I came upon a brilliant idea. "Actually, pipsqueak… there _is_ something I'd like you to do for me. Involves a bunch of flying around, so I'm sure you'd be up to it."

Her face brightened when I mentioned flying around and as soon as I finished my sentence, she blurted out, "Absolutely! I'll do whatever it is I have to do in _no_ time!"

I grinned. You had to admire her enthusiasm when it came to helping people. The smile was bittersweet, however. Seeing her bright face and smile made me feel… old. "Great! Now listen: I've pretty much covered everything as far as the materials I'll need for the spell. All that's left for me to do is study the incantations and other stuff like that. Since there isn't much help you can give in regard to that, why not fetch the things I need, so we can have this all wrapped up as soon as possible?"

"Sounds like an awesome idea!" She flew to the doorway in a flash, only to stop just as she reached it. She turned to face me and scratched the back of her head with one of her front hooves. "Ummm… what do I need to get again?"

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. "Keep your saddle on, I'll write you a list in a minute. First, I gotta ask another favor of you."

"Sure," she shrugged, "what is it?"

"Once you've finished getting all the material I need, I want you to fly around and ask anypony you can find about upcoming events, places where a lot of ponies will be gathering."

Her ears perked up, "You think that's where our wizard's gonna strike next."

"Well, well," I smirked, "that brain of yours isn't just for show after all."

She scoffed, but nodded and waited patiently as I wrote my list, using a random scrap of parchment found on the small table in between the library chairs. I then looked up at the clock in the center of the entire library. It was already 10:00PM. "Alright, pipsqueak. Once you finish your errand, ask around as much as you can. We'll rendezvous outside the library at eleven-thirty, but you can come back if the search either goes much better than I expected, or fails miserably."

She gave me a prideful salute. "You got it!"

Once again, I found myself smiling at her youthful eagerness. "Thanks, pipsqueak."

She smiled and replied, "Don't mention it!" before zipping off to the door and out into the dark streets. I turned to the three-feet-tall pile of books on the table I was sitting at and, with a grimace and sigh, returned to my dull studies.

… … …

It was 11:33 as I stepped out of the library. My brain felt like it was made out of a mushy oatmeal of insufferable pain. I shook my head, trying to free it of its numbing overload of knowledge, yielding no results. I gave up on trying to relieve myself and focused on the skies, looking for my assistant. A master of timing, she darted into the sky above me in a rainbow-colored flash as soon as I looked up, skidding to a halt as she landed in front of me. On her back were two tan-colored saddlebags, one on each side. Both of the bags were visibly filled to their capacity, which explained the excited look on her face. "I got everything you asked for! It was _easy_!"

I ruffled her hair and chuckled. "I can see that. G'job, pipsqueak. What about your other job? Any info on any big gatherings of some kind?"

She swatted my hoof away with an annoyed, but slightly amused look. When I asked her about the information, she frowned, lowered her head and shook it. "Nah… nopony that I asked knew anything about something like what we're looking for. Sorry…"

I shrugged. "So long as we have the foci for my thresholds, we're golden. Finding a specific place to set one up was just a secondary objective." I noticed she didn't raise her head, even slightly. I sighed and nudged her head up to look up at me with a hoof. "Hey. Listen to me. You did fine, pipsqueak. Now c'mon, I'll walk you home and we can continue tomorrow."

Her countenance quickly began panicked when I mentioned home. "Ummm, that's not necessary! It's all the way in Cloudsdale and I wouldn't want to bother you with the trip. Heh, besides, I _can_ take care of myself, you know."

"That may be," I frowned, "but regardless of how well you can take care of yourself, Lotus will _still_ kick my sorry flank if she hears that I let a filly fly home all by herself when _I'm_ the one that kept her here until late at night. So I'm going with you. Besides, someone's gotta explain to your parents why you were out so late."

The look on her face went from worried to crestfallen. She kicked some dirt off of the ground with her hoof and sighed before taking a deep inhale. "Ummm… Mister Gumshoe… I… I don't _have_ a home… Or parents…"

Ouch. Wasn't I just lecturing Paperback on assuming not even a couple hours ago? I bit my lip and cringed a bit. "I'm… so sorry. I didn't mean to assume, or press the matter."

She smiled weakly. "It's fine. You didn't know."

"That's how Scooter and Lucy 'got you out of a jam', isn't it?" I frowned. "They let you live with them."

"And they helped me pay for going to the Flight Academy. Right now… I don't really know what I'll do when this whole thing's over."

Silence yawned. I couldn't think of anything to say. How could I possibly segue into a more pleasant conversation? She had just told me how much more personal this case was than I had originally thought. The culprit hadn't just murdered a couple of family friends; he ruined this poor filly's life. Without thinking, in a desperate need to say _something_, I blurted out, "Maybe you can stay with Lotus n' me tonight. We have a guest bedroom, so it wouldn't be much of a hassle."

She looked up at me like I was insane. "Nonono, I don't wanna impose. It's fine, really, Mr. and Mrs. Cake could let me stay in Sugarcube Corner for a few days. I could just sleep on the floor or something."

I shook my head with a sigh. "Kid, there are some things you need to know about Lotus. First: I can't lie to her, not because I feel bad or because I'm bad at it, but because she could smell a lie coming from me like aftershave. She just knows me too well, and all the looks I make when I feel a certain way, or have done certain things. It's kinda creepy, really. So, one way or another, she's gonna find out about you. Second… well, remember how I said she'd kick my flank for letting you walk back to Cloudsdale alone? Well, if she hears that I just let you walk the streets or sleep on the floor of a bakery, I might as well write my will on the way home."

Though the look on her face was a terrible excuse for a smile, she chuckled and looked up at me, a very sincere look of gratitude hiding behind her glum countenance. I smiled. I did the right thing in saying that the reason I was so insistent was because of Lotus, saving her and myself from having a corny "moment". And my wife says I don't understand kids.

"Alright," she sighed, "since you getting killed by your wife would totally make finding the guy that did this harder, I _guess_ I'll to stay the night."

I grinned and walked off in the direction toward my house. "Thanks, pipsqueak. You're a real saint."

"I know!" She piped up as she followed.

We walked down the street in silence. Though I managed to make the mood a little more cheerful when we walked away from the library, I didn't want to press my luck, and decided it would be best to leave her to her thoughts. I figured she needed it.

So, I was quite surprised when she decided to strike up small talk. "So, where do you live, anyways?"

"Eastern outskirts of town. Just about as far out as Apple Acres."

She frowned. "Sounds kinda secluded and boring."

"I kind of like that it's out of the way." I said. "I'm not a very social pony. I'm not sure why, but I just don't get along well with most other ponies."

"I can think of a few reasons why…" she muttered.

"Which is a shame of course!" I continued, ignoring her. "After all, not being able to speak with such a charismatic and oh-so witty colt like myself is a loss worthy of tears!"

"Yeah, suuuure," she began to reply, but I didn't hear the rest of it. Not a single word. As soon as I had finished my sentence, I felt a terrible chill sweep through my entire body, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Meanwhile, my mind was sending me signals saying "fight-or-flight" but, unlike most situations where it happens, it came preemptively. That usually meant one thing: a large amount of magic was being charged up. And the intensity of the chill told me it was very, _very_ close.

By the time I had processed all of what I was sensing, Dash had already given out her sarcastic retort and meanwhile, I wasn't saying anything. She must have noticed the grim look on my face along with the silence, because my thoughts were interrupted by a "Mister Gumshoe?"

I came back down to Earth and looked around a bit, trying to register where in town I was: the western part of town, about 5 minutes away from leaving the outer portion of it. Her question gave way to silence, a silence interrupted by only one sound. Hoofsteps… three sets of them, including my own and Rainbow's. I quickly gathered my willpower and concentration, preparing for the worst, as I finally replied to my assistant.

"Listen to me, pipsqueak. I need you to trot slightly faster than me. Once you're ahead, get directly in front of me and stay close. When I say so, stop walking immediately and keep staying close to me, okay?"

"Wait, what? What's goin' o-"

"You swore to do as I say, when I say it, how I say it," I reminded her, "and dammit, pipsqueak, you're going to honor that promise **now.**"

She didn't question me any further and tensed up as she walked ahead of me at a slow pace, then meandering in front of me the first chance she got. She then stayed a few feet in front of me as we continued walking. As she did so, I felt the chill running through my body getting more and more of a presence, its direction absolutely coming from right behind us. I began muttering an incantation under my breath, preparing a spell that I'd memorized since way back, during my first year in the Manehattan Police Department.

Meanwhile, I could easily tell that Dash was terrified. She squeaked in a frightened whisper, "Wh-what's going on?"

"Didn't think I'd say this so soon," I muttered, "but I think he's gonna try to take us out, face-to-face. And I think he's gonna try right now. And don't you dare look behind you, pipsqueak."

"Oh, Celestia, no," she murmured, and I couldn't help but notice her whole body was shaking. All of her confidence and cockiness disintegrated in those three words, and I was quickly reminded of what I'd done: I brought a kid into this. A damned kid.

"Don't worry," I said, "I won't let him hurt you. Just remember, when I say 'Now', stop walking, turn around and stay behind me, alright?"

"…"

"Dash!" I hissed.

"… Okay."

"Good," I tensed my muscles as my spell became fully prepared. "Get ready. 3… 2… 1… **NOW!**"


	4. Chapter 4

I raised an invisible shield composed of pure force, and just in the nick of time. The second that it was fully brought up around Dash and myself, what felt like a train of force rammed into us and launched us back into the side of a building. Fortunately, I knew damned well how to cast a good shielding spell, and the sphere of protective energy remained intact, Dash and I remaining on our feet after the collision with the building's brick wall.

After a second's recovery, I dropped the shield and flung Rainbow off to my right, behind a few large crates outside of a nearby alleyway, with my telekinesis. I strafed to the left, taking the attacker's attention away from where I tossed Dash, and shouted back to her, "Stay back there 'til it's safe, pipsqueak!"

As I attempted to get as much distance between the kid and myself as possible, I charged up a moderate amount of electricity in my horn and, with a strong sense of will, shot out disks of lightning at him in a quick burst of three. The unicorn tucked and rolled out of the way, the bolts of lightning colliding with the cobblestone street and unleashed a bright flash of energy. It was in that moment of illumination that I could see the attacking unicorn's features or, more accurately, his lack thereof.

Every inch of him, from mane to tail, was pitch-black. When I first saw him, I merely thought that his dimmed appearance was due to the unlit streets, but his darkened complexion remained, even with the close proximity of several flashes of lightning. His eyes were also without color, a genetic impossibility. I quickly muttered a curse as the light from my attack died down: he was using a pigmentation spell. Altering one's appearance with magic was a relatively simple task, and this guy used it to his advantage admirably. By making his mane, hide and eyes impossibly colored, he made giving away his identity the last thing he should worry about so that, if his assassination attempt happened to fail, he'd still be anonymous to the policecolts of Ponyville.

After he dodged my attack, he replied with one of his own, though this time he didn't shoot a spear of invisible force at me, but a horizontal pillar of fire. Fortunately, having to dodge took away from his concentration and he missed me completely.

One of the reasons I don't use fire is that it's far too easy to use it against you. An enemy could simply dance around while you launch flames at him until you've set the entire area around you on fire, and become a total sitting duck. Not to mention getting burned hurts, and with how wild and fluid fire is, apprentice-level wizards inflicting serious injury on themselves with fire spells is an all too common sight. Another negative quality in fire is that it makes close-quarters combat very difficult to pull off without hurting one's self. With that in mind, I brought up my shield of force and charged at the assailant head-on.

He took a step back, mildly surprised by my decision, but didn't hesitate to launch a couple fireballs at me. I clenched my eyes shut and solidified my shield with as much concentration as I could, and the fireballs simply dissipated on impact. Relieved, I quickened my running speed and hit the bastard with as much force as I could, using the shield as a blunt object. To my surprise, he didn't dodge at all, most likely flabbergasted by my method of attack. He was probably expecting a more graceful assault. Son of a mule didn't know what pony he was dealing with.

The attacker was sent sprawling into an alley filled with barrels. He smashed most of them open as he went flying through them, their contents being a large amount of milk bottles. Looks like we were fighting right outside of the Milk Bar. I must have ticked him off something fierce, for the second he got back up, he shot a massive sphere of fire, thrice the size of the two he shot at me before. The blast forced me back several feet, allowing him to run out of the alleyway and strafe, putting distance between us in order to make his attacks less dangerous for him0.

I ran after him, but I failed to remember that the Milk Bar had a trough filled with water outside of it, as means to "sober up" some of its patrons before they sauntered home. The assailant quickly used his telekinesis and flipped it to its side, dumping out all the cold water it had onto the street. I noticed what he'd done just too late and my legs quickly gave out beneath me, causing me to bash my lower jaw against the cobblestone with an, "Oomph!"

I tried to get back up as fast as I could, but my damned hooves kept sliding and failing to get a good grip on the surface. Meanwhile, the dark pony was gathering quite a bit of energy at his horn, an orange light surrounding it. He was obviously going charging up another fire spell, this one much more powerful than the last. A coup de grace, if you will. Fortunately, I had complete faith in my shield and quickly raised it while I continued my attempts to get back on my hooves.

I swear I saw a white outline of a mouth crack into a blood-curdling grin as he turned away from me. He then lowered his head and aimed his horn at a stack of crates or, more precisely, the very crates Rainbow Dash was hiding behind. I shouted a warning to her and quickly gave up on standing up, dragging my entire body towards the crates with my front hooves. Once I managed to get myself on ground that wasn't soaking wet, I stumbled up and charged into the path between the attacker and the pile of crates.

I got in close proximity of Dash and her hiding place and raised a spherical field of energy around us. I had arrived too late. I was midway through raising the shield when a massive plume of fire hit me dead-on, searing most of my chest and the upper part of my legs. I fell on my back, front legs limply lying at my side, useless. I tried to grit my teeth to keep me from screaming in pain but, like I said, getting burned kind of hurts.

As soon as I finished shouting, I yelled as loud as I could, "GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, PIPSQUEAK. FLY TO WHERE I TOLD YOU AND LOOK FOR A BURGUNDY AND WHITE HOUSE. TELL THE PONY LIVING THERE I'M IN TRO-"

I was interrupted by a black hoof stomping on my charred right leg. I stopped what I was saying immediately and screamed again, the pressure against my wound causing an indescribable amount of pain. Fortunately, she got the message and flew to the skies in a rainbow-lined flash before zipping further west.

The assailant snorted and looked down at me, donning a very casual smile, the kind someone would wear when they're making casual conversation with a neighbor. It creeped me out. "You know just as well as I do that she won't come back in time."

I shivered. His voice was masked also, an impossibly deep baritone. That wasn't what creeped me out though. What got to me was the way he said it. It wasn't a threat. It was a simple fact that he was stating, like "two plus two equals four." He was going to kill me, and that was that.

I was still gritting my teeth, biting back the agony of having my torso flambéed, but still managed to speak. "Yeah. Most likely."

He then chuckled and trotted around me, keeping his ebony eyes on me, contemplating. The way he circled me reminded me a little too much of a shark or wolf surveying its prey. "Really, though, leaping in the way of an attack to save her? How disappointingly cliché."

"N-not as c-cliché," I stuttered, the pain starting to really get to me, "as aiming at a foal in order to take advantage of somepony that's stronger than you. 'Least I can still look at myself in the m-mirror at the end of th-the day."

He scoffed and casually kicked me in the side. The hit caused me to roll off of my back and onto my stomach. My burns rubbed against the rough stone street and my throat burned with how loudly I screamed. I looked around, hoping the noise that's been made would've stricken up some attention from any resident nearby. To my dismay, there weren't any residents to speak of. Upon closer investigation, all the nearby buildings were daytime stores, and not a soul was in any of them.

Meanwhile, the assailant placed a front hoof square on my back and pressed me further into the ground. I managed to grit my teeth this time, as my burns continued to get sandpapered by the street. He then lowered his head so that his muzzle was inches away from my ear and whispered, "You know what's funny, detective?"

"Knock-knock jokes?" I tend to get snarky when in immediate danger. It's a special way to distract myself from the fact that I'm extremely close to getting killed. He didn't appreciate my response and stomped on my spine, a very meager pain in comparison to my chest. He replied briskly, trying to keep his anger under control.

"Other than that: it's this ridiculous notion of honor you have. Not only did it cause you to be where you are now, severely burned and lying on the floor helpless, but it also is the reason you're on the other end of the sword. If you would just detach yourself, think of things my way, perhaps we could have ended up as partners. Your talent is remarkable, to say the least, and you would be a valuable asset in regard to my plans."

"Like the old saying goes," I muttered, "two sociopathic killers are better than one."

"Come on now, Detective, must you be so close-minded like all the other officers of the law? Surely, you've gathered that somepony with such knowledge of magic couldn't be just some loco unicorn that tripped upon a decent spellbook. You know that I have a reason for all of this."

I felt my cheeks getting red-hot and my teeth had incentive to grind for reasons other than the searing pain in my chest. "I get inside criminals' heads. Try to figure out what they're gonna do next. I don't rationalize their sick actions. I try my damnedest to keep them from happening again. You can delude yourself with whatever disgusting, pseudo-romantic justifications you'd like, but don't you dare try to push them onto me."

"Think about it, Detective," he hissed. His breath was frightening and cold, so very cold, "about all the things we could do, and all the rewards it would yield. You, your wife and that filly would be so much better off. Just im-"

"Oh, for Celestia's sake, _please._ Shut. Up. If you're going to kill me, kill me. If not, buck off and call the hospital. Don't give me any in-between, 'join me and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son' crap."

"Hmph," he raised his head slightly and pressed his horn against the back of my head. I could feel slight warmth and saw a faint orange glow coming from beyond my peripheral vision. "Very well then."

The heat from his spell rose in intensity by the second, and the hair on the back of my head began to curl. I closed my eyes and, honestly, began accepting what was happening. This is what happens to nosy detectives: they get bumped. It was then that I felt the heat suddenly disappear, all at once. His horn was no longer against the back of my head and, upon looking to the side to see what he was doing, I noticed he was looking up at the sky, particularly at the moon. His face was completely panicked for some reason and, without saying another word, he dashed off into the darkness of the street. No threats, no saying that next time I won't be so lucky, nothing.

It was odd, but I didn't particularly care at the moment. I was just damned happy to be alive. I rolled over onto my back and simply lay there, trying to stifle the pain in my chest. I actually laughed – cackled, really – for a minute or two. No doubt I was in hysterics due to the pain and adrenaline. When the laughter died down, I just and stared at the sky for a bit. I didn't try to move or go anywhere, for obvious reasons. Lotus and Dash would be here soon enough, I hoped. I didn't even try to piece together anything that happened. There'd be time to do that later, when I was in a better frame of mind.

After a few minutes of lying there, the most beautiful white Pegasus you've ever seen came into my field of vision, looking down at me, her fair visage utterly distraught. Her long, highlighter-yellow hair was dangling over one side of her shoulder and brushed against my face. The tickling sensation was soothing and, had I not been in intense agony, I'd have probably giggled at it. Instead, I simply murmured. "Hey, beautiful, you here to take this dying colt to heaven?"

She let out a snort in disgust and raised her head before craning her neck, looking back. "He's in pretty bad shape! He's spouting pick-up lines!"

I heard Rainbow Dash's voice crack in the distance. "What!"

"Nothing, I'll explain later, hon! Just go get Nurse Redheart! She'll bring an ambulance in no time!"

"Gotcha!" And with that, I heard a _woosh!_ and saw a spectral streak fly through the sky towards the center of town. Once she left, the white mare dragged me to the closest wall in the street as carefully as she could. She then sat me up so that I had something to lean against, allowing me to get a better view of my wife.

Lotus was _not_ average in the looks department, even if I didn't have my slightly biased opinion. All of her long hair was slung over one and fell to the middle of her chest. Her eyes were of the same yellow hue and complimented her pale, white hide perfectly. It was rather unfortunate that she thought being compared to an angel was a cheesy, chauvinistic and disgusting thing to do, because she seriously _did_ look like an angel. Oh well. Knowing me, I'd probably overuse it anyways.

As I sat there in an exhausted daze, she was digging through a brown saddlebag mounted on her back. After a few seconds' searching, she pulled out a clean, thin washrag and trotted over to the tipped over trough. She kneeled and swabbed the inside of it with her rag, soaking up all the cold water left in it that she could. When she got a satisfactory amount, she trotted back to me and firmly pressed the rag against the center of my wound. After a few seconds of cooling down my chest, she lessened the pressure and began rubbing its entirety. I clenched my teeth shut and exhaled through my snout as she did so. I couldn't help but notice the look of guilt she had on her face. Even if she was helping me in the long run, getting the dead skin cells out of the way for when the nurse got here, she was still causing me a truckload of pain.

I pushed the urges to scream and shout to the back of my head and smiled weakly. "Just like old times, huh?"

She smiled back and a slight blush crept on her face. I was referring to how we first met. I'll get into that later, I promise. "It _was_ one of the first things that came to mind. But that was just a stupid dragonling that hardly knew what he was doing. This burn's definitely gonna scar."

"Gee, doc," I drawled, "a fireball bigger than some fillies hitting me directly in the chest is gonna leave some scars? No wonder they pay you the big bits, with diagnoses like that." In response, she pressed the rag against my skin a wee bit harder than she should have, sending a terrible jolt of pain between the nerves in my chest and my brain.

"SUNUVA-" I clenched my teeth together and sharply inhaled, glaring daggers at Lotus, who donned the most dainty smile.

"My apologies, Mister Patient~" she said in an uncharacteristically saccharine voice.

I grinded my teeth together and didn't speak until the pain faded. "You know, whenever I'd imagine you roleplaying as a Nurse, I expected it to be a lot more, ah, 'pleasant.'" I pursed my lips. "But I gotta say, I'm very disappointed."

Whatever remained of her reminiscent blush flared up again, and she continued treating me in silence. Once she finished washing my wound, she put away the rag and took out some bandaging and ointment. I scooted away from the wall and let her apply the ointment to my chest and wrap the cloth tightly around my torso. It took a lot, and I mean a lot, of effort to keep myself from screaming bloody murder. When she finished, I leaned back against the wall of the building, while she put all of her supplies away and sat beside me.

"That should make things tolerable while we're waiting for the ambulance to arrive." I grunted in reply. "So, what happened?"

I told her about the case I received this afternoon and about how I bumped into Rainbow Dash. I told her about the magical panic attack I had at the scene of the crime, and about my threshold research. I even mentioned Dash's current situation and how I insisted she stay with us for a few days.

"You mean a few years, right?" She frowned. "She's staying with us until she's grown."

"I don't think Dash would approve of that."

"It can be against her religion for all I care, we are _not_ going to throw that poor filly onto the streets once this whole thing's over."

"She's old enough to make that decision, Lotus. For Celestia's sake, she hardly even knows us. Not to mention it's illegal to forcibly take a filly into your custody."

"But it's just fine to turn her away and have her walk the streets?"

I frowned and looked away. "… There are plenty of orphanages in Cloudsdale."

"And she hasn't gone to them yet, otherwise she would have told you to take her there when you two left the library. So what makes you think she will when this whole thing's over?" Lotus placed a forehoof under my chin and gently craned my neck so that I was looking back at her. To my surprise, her face didn't have a look of annoyance, but one of pity. "Hon… I know you're scared of being a father. But what happened to Sunny wasn't your fault. Dash needs us, and you know that. She may be acting like it's no big deal, putting on that cool persona, but I can see right through. She's a scared little girl, Phil. And she definitely needs someone to take care of her, at least until she can make a living and live on her own, when she's older."

"If you're right," I shook my head, "then she'll gladly accept your offer, and there'll be no need to force it on her. Once this case is over, we'll sit her down about it. But it's going to be _her_ choice. Not ours'. Agreed?"

She hesitated for a moment, and then sighed. "Agreed."

Rainbow Dash finally came back with Nurse Redheart and a couple of colts in tow. The colts were carrying a white wagon with a red cross painted on both of its sides. The Nurse and Lotus carefully carried me into the wagon. By then, I was already fading out of consciousness. I have a pretty good pain threshold, don't get me wrong, but I had to suffer through that burn for almost half an hour, only the last 10 minutes of it having been treated with Lotus's ointment. That, coupled with how late it was and how exhausting the fight was, gave me more than enough excuse to get some rest.

My eyes were half-closed when I heard Nurse Redheart's voice. "It's alright, Mister Gumshoe, everything will be fine. You're safe."

"Good." I murmured and with each word I spoke I became less audible. "Now excuse me while I pass out…" True to my word, my entire vision faded to black as I fell into a quick, well-deserved sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Hey guys. I'm terribly sorry this upload took so long. Lots of factors have contributed to the absence of writing, most notably not having internet, personal stuff happening and just plain not knowing what to do with this scene at the hospital. In any case, it's here now and I think it's actually the longest chapter yet. So… maybe it'll be worth it? And since I'm in the middle of one of these "author's notes" (which I rarely do), I just want to thank all of you guys, both the silent favoriters and the people who leave their reviews every chapter. You guys rule, and are the only thing keeping me from thinking this whole fic was a really bad idea. Anyways, enjoy!_

The Mayor entered my room in Ponyville General only a few minutes past eight o' clock in the morning. By then, Lotus and I were already awake and quietly eating our breakfast, mine being a hearty soup prepared by Nurse Redheart and Lotus's being an almost ridiculously large stack of pancakes. Rainbow was still sleeping, her small frame sprawled across two chairs pushed together and covered by a fuzzy quilt provided by Nurse Tenderheart.

Upon entering, we immediately cringed at how the Mayor looked. She was an utter wreck. Her eyes were sunken and had several bags underneath them, an ugly sign of exhaustion. Her hair was an unkempt thicket of knots with stray strands of hair poking out at odd angles in every which way.

"Well," I let out a yawn before continuing, grinning, "you look tired."

The Mayor snorted – a rather improper gesture for a pony of such office. "I _am_ tired, Gumshoe. I've been up since two in the Celestia-damned morning, woken up by a call telling me that half of the market district was set on fire. That's not a very good bit of news to start the day on, especially when it's started with only three hours of sleep."

"Well, one the plus side, I found out quite a bit about our mystery pony. And," I lowered my head, acknowledging my wound, and gave the Mayor a level look, "thanks to the circumstances, I guess you can stop thinking that _I'm_ the one responsible for all the murders, huh?"

She momentarily trembled – only for less than a second – then regained her composure. She then gave me a heated glare, trying to feign offense. Unfortunately for her, the flash of doubt was all I needed to be proven right. She then muttered, through an act of clenched teeth, "I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Gumshoe."

"Don't give me that crap, Mary." I interjected immediately. "Let's look at me from a neutral stand-point. I'm a unicorn, probably the most educated in magic – and arcane knowledge in general – in all of Ponyville; the murder that took place the other night stinks of magic-related causes, to the point where even you, a normal Earth pony, could feel it. That would've taken quite a bit of muscle, magically speaking, and pretty much everypony that isn't me uses their magic for baking, or playing music, and can't do diddly in anything else, let alone murder. The crime also must have been done by someone that's either insane or at least sociopathic. And if you even skimmed the report filed by Manehattan PD regarding my 'resignation,' I'm sure you'd have more than a few suspicions, especially considering that I chose to relocate at a nice, quiet and vulnerable little town like Ponyville."

The Mayor was silent, her head slowly lowering as my deduction continued. Unlike Rainbow, she knew better than to attempt to interrupt me when I was on a tangent. "You already had a list of unicorns by the time you visited my office, didn't you?"

"Mr. Gumshoe..."

"Hell," I said, "you probably had it in your pocket and planned on giving it to me, but then got cold hooves and decided against it. After all, if I was the perp, I would've easily found a likely candidate, planted some evidence and branded him with the crime, putting him away and giving myself plenty of leeway. You should've known that not having a list from the get-go would've looked odd. You're a busy mare, Mayor, but not too busy to have some secretary write up a list of some forty odd ponies."

She sighed and raised her head, giving me a weary look. "Phil, you have to understand, I'm the _mayor_ of this town. That title carries far more weight than you or anypony could possibly conceive. And when somepony threatens _my_ town, I can't trust anyone. Not you. Not your wife. Not even my own loved ones. My town comes first, and if there's even a possibility that you're the one doing all of this, then you can bet your wisecracking flank that I'm not gonna hand you all the information you need on a silver platter."

I held up my hooves defensively. "Whoa, whoa, Mary, simmer down. I understand why you've got that mindset. I know it's nothing personal. I just don't like how you're trying to hide and deny it, and think that I'm not gonna notice, like I'm some foal."

Lotus cut in almost as soon as I finished speaking. "Well, _I'm_ pissed off at the whole thing. It doesn't matter if she's the Mayor or not, she should know better than to play games with the only colt in the entire city that's being tasked with solving this. You have enough to worry about without having your client playing hide-and-seek with crucial information." She then turned to the Mayor, glaring daggers.

"Now, Miss Mare: you've been a family friend for a while now, ever since we've moved here. You've helped us settle into the alien experience of living in a small town like Ponyville; you even helped us make friends with our neighbors. For that, I am truly grateful. However, just like how you won't let anypony threaten your town, I won't let **any**pony threaten **my** husband. Now, unless you came here for reasons other than threatening his life and letting us know that you expected him to be a psychopathic murderer then I think it would be best if you leave. **Now.**"

I looked between my wife and the Mayor and suddenly wished very much to be in a more comfortable place; right next to an active volcano, for example. The Mayor, who wasn't nearly as perturbed as I, narrowed her eyes. "As a matter of fact, Miss Tiger Lotus, I_ am_ here for something other than that. And I will certainly keep that threat in mind."

She then regained her usual businesslike visage and turned to face me. "Seeing as how your record states you're not too great with fire magic – not to mention that burning yourself this badly in order to fool me would be idiotic – I think it only makes sense to assume that you aren't the unicorn at large. I have the list with me, but I couldn't find the time to sort out the ponies in the age group you wanted."

"That won't be necessary, Miss Mare." I smiled. Dear Celestia, did that room need a smile. "I don't think age is a factor here."

The Mayor's eyes widened and all traces of anger and cold detachment were replaced with surprise and curiosity. "Oh? I thought you said that the unicorn would have to be rather old in order to pull off a spell like one that would cause a riot. It seems like a logical assumption to me. Why the sudden change of thought?"

I grinned and let out a small chuckle. "I told you: the colt in question revealed a lot more about himself in that fight than I think he knows. See, _normally_, I would be right in guessing his old age. But he let out a lot of unintentional hints about him. First would be the fact that he used fire magic. It's a novice's tool, bold and reckless with way too much unnecessary destruction and risk for self-harm. All the unicorns that delve into magic usually use fire at first, but more veteran wizards like to branch off from that, going to water, lightning, earth, et cetera. Different strokes for different wizards, I guess."

Lotus frowned. "But he could've just been a pro that took a liking to fire."

I shook my head thoughtfully. "No way. He used it like an amateur. Most experienced wizards, even ones that are self-taught, learn to use their offensive magic in short and controlled bursts: enough to do the job, but limited to the point that it doesn't wear one out immediately. The colt I fought last night let his emotions sling his magic for him. His attacks got more aggressive and powerful as time went on or, more specifically, as I made him angrier."

"And then, there's the last piece of evidence, that being the whole reason I'm still alive." I turned to Lotus. "I'm sure that last night you wondered where the mystery colt went and why I wasn't blown to smithereens by the time you arrived. Though," I paused and gave her a tired grin, "I'm even more certain that you decided not to question it and just be thankful that I was still alive, huh?

Lotus said nothing and simply nodded while blushing like an embarrassed schoolfilly. Despite the grim situation we were all in, I couldn't help but warmly regard how adorable she was. After a moment's pause, I cleared my throat and continued. "Fortunately for me, I was able to actually see why he ran away so suddenly. He had his horn pressed against the back of my head, getting ready for his coup de grace, when I suddenly felt his magic disappear. The diminishing of power I felt wasn't slow, like somepony that was tired and became weaker because of it, but was almost instant, like a power source dying out. In fact, it was _exactly_ like a power source."

I heard the Mayor impatiently scoff. "Skip to the point already, Gumshoe. And please summarize all the magical jargon into short, sweet laymare's terms."

I huffed. "Some ponies have _no_ appreciation for detail." The Mayor rolled her eyes and I continued. "Fine. Basically, the world's full of objects and even certain locations that let out magic, the amount of magic based on tons of stuff, like who enchanted the objects or the age and history of the location. These items and places are called artifacts and demesnes, respectively. A unicorn can easily tap into a demesne or artifact and use it to supercharge their magic."

Lotus spoke up. "Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about those things once! It was back in Manehattan, with that mare who brainwashed other ponies into murdering each other." She then shuddered before whispering, "It was terrible."

I nodded glumly. "Yes, that's a perfect example. She conducted all of her black magic from a basement in the Statue of Harmony. Because it was built by unicorns as a selfless gift for the other races of Equestria, over time it became a demesne of positive magic. Because that statue is so old – over a millennium old, actually – that magic built up and became one of the largest demesnes in all of Equestria. The killer used an amulet that reversed any magic's power, and converted the positive energy of the statue into a torrent of plain, simple and disgusting hatred. She then used it to create dissonance in anypony she wanted to, if they were within range."

The Mayor shuddered as well. "That's… kind of terrifying."

I grunted. "Doesn't happen all _that _often. We try to keep unicorns that haven't graduated the Wizarding Academy ignorant of easy access to power like that. You know, make sure that anypony who knows about it understands the responsibility that comes with magic and hasn't lost their marbles. And it still takes a significant bit of power and know-how to understand how to tap into artifacts and demesnes, especially the latter. The mare in the Statue of Harmony was a rogue wizard that used to be part of the Manehattan Council of Arcane Specialists, basically a professor for a college of wizards until she went nuts and ran off."

"So, going back on topic," the Mayor said, "you think the murderer's just some rookie wizard that's using an artifact or demesne to supercharge his power. Since anypony with the right information could do that, age becomes irrelevant."

"Precisely, though he'd have to be at least a young adult to be able to tap into something this powerful. I was fortunate enough to have a bit of energy left in me when his magic got cut off. I was able to turn my head and see that he was staring at the moon, looking pretty damned panicked."

Lotus tilted her head, confused. "So, the demesne he's using is… the moon?"

"Couldn't be. It's WAY too far away; you'd have to have your hooves firmly planted within a demesne's field of magic in order to be able to utilize it. All I know is that it has _something_ to do with the moon. Otherwise he wouldn't have stared at it all bug-eyed before running away. The fact that Scooter and Lucy's murder happened very late at night – about the same time Rainbow and I got attacked, if I recall correctly – makes it even more plausible. He could've swung at us with the same hammer he swung at them." There was an uncomfortable, pensive silence in the room and I sighed and sunk lower in my bed. "I'll have to do some research tomorrow. The library should have plenty of books about how magic relates to the moon, so it shouldn't take _too_ long… I hope."

The Mayor nodded. "It looks like you've got a lead, at the very least. For now, that's all we can hope for." She sighed and her face softened. For a moment, she looked much older than she actually was. A lot of things were clearly shown: pain, stress, frustration at being so helpless in this situation, distrust, and most of all, sorrow. She was angry that the assumption involving the moon was all I had, and even angrier that I didn't have even the slightest clue as to who the culprit was. I knew what weapon was being used but I didn't have a clue who was swinging it or, for that matter, why he swung it at Scooter and Lucy. Hell, I actually made my suspect group _bigger _than what it was originally. At least when I started out, I gave her a fairly simple age group to go by. Now, it was pretty much any unicorn that lived in Ponyville and wasn't a foal. Great job narrowing the suspect crowd, Detective.

The Mayor handed me the list of unicorns residing in Ponyville and after a quiet goodbye and good luck, trotted out of my door. Lotus and I almost jumped at the sound of a rather upset, cracking voice. "What the hay was _her_ problem!" We turned to see Rainbow Dash sitting up in her makeshift bed with her forelegs crossed and a bitter scowl apparent on her face.

I frowned at her, shaking my head. "You can't be _too_ angry at the way she acted, squirt. She doesn't exactly have the most pleasant job in the world. She can't afford to trust anypony."

"Even the pony she _asked_ to do her dirty work for her in the first place?" I nodded. "That's just stupid!"

"She's gotta be cautious, kid, can't afford to make any friends. Get in a high position like hers and make some friends, they start doing favors. Then they start asking for those favors to get returned and your conscience just can't let you say no to 'em."

She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. "Well, I mean… that doesn't sound all THAT bad..."

"At first, yes. A lot of things sound innocent and harmless at first. But then they grow and turn into something ugly. Compromises give way to more compromises and, little by little, you trade a bit more of your city to your so-called 'friends'."

Dash hopped out of her chair and stood rigid, the entire half a minute of arguing already getting her riled up – honestly, I don't know how kids can be so energetic at eight-thirty in the morning. They just are. She then pointed a hoof at me, almost accusingly. "But _you're_ not like that!"

"I never said I was, pipsqueak. And the Mayor never said I was either. Well, not specifically me." I looked out my room's window. I could see the Mayor walking down the street, away from the hospital, still looking exhausted and lonely. "When you make a decision as big as going into politics, you have to hold onto something, kid. If I had to guess, I'm willing to bet that Mary made a promise to herself, decided to never make a friend. Not while she was in office, anyways. She promised to never give way or compromise to anypony, with no exceptions, no matter what it may put her through. Sure, a lot of ponies are gonna call her a hardass but when you play a dangerous game like politics and put yourself on a no-compromise track like she is, the enemies just come with the territory. It's the sacrifice she's gotta make."

Dash followed my gaze out the window and must have noticed how miserable the Mayor looked as well. "So – so he's just putting her job above her social life?"

"Exactly."

She looked down at the floor, guilt plainly showing on her face. I looked over to Lotus and found her looking the same, ashamed of having lost her temper with her earlier. I thought they were feeling a bit _too_ guilty, if you ask me. Nopony's perfect; everypony makes mistakes now and then. And if you feel bad for having made the mistake, then that just proves you aren't a rotten kind of pony.

I quickly changed the subject. We didn't have time to mope and I said so to the both of them, then turned my attention specifically to Dash. "Now listen, kid. I gotta ask ya to do something for me –" I paused and quickly amended my offer. "– if you're interested, that is. I understand if you don't wanna take part in this anymore after having been tossed right into the middle of the danger like that."

Dash scoffed and started trotting to my bed, an eager smile beginning to show. "Name it, boss."

Boss. I really liked the sound of that. I couldn't help but smile back at her. "Heh. Guess I shoulda known better. Alright then, squirt, here's the deal. The two lovely owners of this establishment are adamant about me stayin' here to recover. And in case you didn't know, nurses can get a bit over-protective of their patients, ESPECIALLY nurses that are as old fashioned as the Heart twins. Bottom line, I gotta stay, but only 'til tomorrow morning. Fortunately, being a unicorn makes wounds heal just a bit faster than ones on normal ponies. I think Miss Redheart said something like, 'magic acting as a catalyst for my cell-based regeneration,' or some medical horseradish like that."

"In any case, I have to stay here and seeing as we're on a bit of a time crunch, I'm gonna need ya to place the thresholds in all of the most densely populated areas of the town: the train station; the library; the market district, though you may have to dodge some policecolts and firecolts thanks to the fire; all of the major plazas, though I want you to avoid the one where the murder happened – there's still a lot of negative magic residue there and I don't want you to get hurt; and finally, all around City Hall and the roundabout just outside it." I raised an eyebrow at the kid. "You got all that, pipsqueak?"

She stood on her hind legs and gave a solemn salute. "You got it, boss!" She then trotted over to one of the plush chairs pressed against the eastern wall of my room, located to my right. Separate from the cluster of chairs acting as Lotus and Dash's beds, the chair had the brown saddlebag containing all the magical foci I asked her to collect the day before, as well as the journal I used to write down the procedure for setting them up while at the library. She grabbed the saddlebag with her mouth, set it down on the floor, wriggled underneath it, and fastened all of the straps to make sure it wouldn't fall off. She then trotted to the large window on the wall opposite of the one my bed was sitting against and opened it. She spread her wings and tensed in preparation for take-off. However, she momentarily relaxed and cocked her head to the side, grinning. "By the way, boss: I really like your mane. It fits your personality."

She then burst out laughing and darted out of the window, the gust of wind left behind almost knocking everything in the room off of their respective tables. As she left, I covered my head with my hooves, fearing that something would fly at me and bonk me on the noggin. When I did, I didn't feel a soft, rigid fedora atop my head like I always did but instead felt hoof-fulls of fluff: my mane. I looked over to the western wall, to the right of my bed, and saw myself in the reflection of a large mirror and with it, the embarrassing and unruly afro I've been cursed with ever since I was a foal.

I hurriedly looked around the hospital room for my fedora and found it hanging on a metal hat stand next to my hospital bed, as well as my coat. In quick jolt of energy, I leaned over from my bed, snatched my hat and tightly pressed it against the top of my head. I heard Lotus trying to stifle a laugh at my embarrassment, but she eventually gave way and was cackling heartily– it had been a while since she saw me without my hat on. I felt my face heat up and tried to ignore her, which was easier than one would think. As embarrassing the situation might have been, I had work to do, after all, work that was much more urgent than something so silly.

I sank even lower in my bed until I was lying, my back parallel to the floor, and put my hooves behind my head, thinking. I ran all the information I had and all the information I needed through my mind, trying to find the right angle to approach this from. What I know about the killer is that he's a unicorn that's at least a young adult. He isn't very experienced, but he definitely is knowledgeable, or at least has easy access to knowledge.

I rubbed my chin with a hoof and felt that I was getting somewhere. _"Easy access to knowledge?"_ I thought. _"Why, what better place to go for knowledge than Ponyville's library? I would have to send the kid there as a lookout tomorrow."_ She'll probably be too tired when she gets back to do it tonight and I don't want to push the poor filly too hard. This whole experience is even harder on her than it is on me. At least I have the benefit of professional detachment.

I shook my head and pushed the thoughts of Rainbow Dash away. _"Focus, damn you. Solve murder now, worry about kid later."_ I sighed and continued down my line of thought. _"So the kid's gonna be off at the library, skulking around, being sneaky. What will I be doing then? I should be in trotting condition by tomorrow morning, so not staying here. I was definitely gonna be doing some snooping. I just have to think of the right place to look."_

_"What else do I know about this guy...?"_ It seemed like all I knew was just that he was a unicorn. I looked at the Mayor's list of unicorns and grimaced. It provided the names, dates of birth and occupation of the listed ponies, as well as how long they've lived in Ponyville. It was exactly as I feared: none of them looked dangerous at all. Most of them were bakers, musicians, salesponies, cooks, and an assortment of other working class occupations. And all of them have been living here for a while, most likely established themselves as respected parts of the community, harmless.

The small group of ponies in Ponyville's Upper Class had a few unicorns and some of their servants were unicorns as well. That could be a good lead. After all, they would be able to get any information, magical or otherwise, from their infinite connections. But then, how did they figure out I was trailing them so quickly and where I was the moment of the attack? Sure, maybe word would've gotten to them soon, but how could they have found out about me and where I was roughly 6 hours after I got the case? The Mayor wouldn't have leaked anything. If she was being secretive to me, then she'd definitely be tight-lipped to everypony else.

"_No,"_ I thought, _"it would have to be somepony that followed me, somepony that was doing footwork in the common rabble. Besides, why the hell would a pony in the Upper Class go bonkers and start killing a bunch of other ponies anyway? If I was a pony spoiled rotten with bits and luxuries, I'd do my damnedest to keep the status quo in check, so long as it meant getting a fattening feast every night."_

No motive and a flimsy explanation struck aristocratic unicorns from my suspect's list and in turn, eliminated any native ponies in the suspect list. Even if the murderer was a pony that's lived here for years just fine and suddenly snapped, starting to kill his neighbors, it would be impossible to pick him out amongst the dozens of other ponies that are in the same suspect crowd that he's in. So that settled that: the murderer couldn't have been native to Ponyville. But why would he come here? I closed my eyes and began placing myself in the killer's hooves.

Let's say I was a unicorn and that I was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, if you know what I mean. I also hardly know squat about magic, only that it's powerful and, if used in certain ways, devastating. I want to use my magic to "insert-insane-and-sociopathic-goal-here," but I'm well aware that I'm WAY too inexperienced to do anything and far too eager and impatient to actually sit down and study it for several years. I hear that there's a town called Ponyville with one of the most extensive libraries found in the Known World. I've also probably heard that wizards are total nerds and write down just about everything that goes through their heads, from arcane formulae to insane, rambling monologues. And even more conveniently, that wizards are very pompous and publish everything they write, sending them to libraries. One plus one equals two; if I'm gonna find a quick and cheap way to become powerful, it'll be at Ponyville's library.

So, I leave "insert-town-name-here" and go to Ponyville. I read up as much as I can, looking for a shortcut, and find a book about demesnes and artifacts describing how they work. Even better, I find a book showing me that I can do a whole bunch of cool stuff with the moon and can temporarily be very powerful. I learn how to perform whatever ritual it requires, get all the necessary supplies and go through with it. I test it out on Scooter and Lucy, two Pegasi that are somehow connected to me, and find that I can cause a whole plaza filled with docile ponies to go berserk, even if only for a minute.

I jump for joy, ecstatic that my plan's working without a hitch, but then check the scene of the crime to be sure. While monitoring it from the distance I see a pensive-looking unicorn and Pegasus snooping around the plaza. Seeing as the guards let him in, I can only assume he's some nosy detective. So, I follow him around and on the same night, I eat my moon-powered vitamins and go gunning for the annoying colt and his partner, ultimately failing due to the short time span I'm given. And that brings us to the now. I nodded and proudly grinned, my eyes still closed. _"Seems plausible to me. But I still have to find a motive."_

So I just lie there, trying to think of some reason for doing this or some piece of the puzzle that could lead me to the mystery colt's identity. Lotus no doubt finished laughing a while ago and just sat there silently, not wanting to disrupt my train of thought. Over the years, she learned the look on my face when I was brooding, thinking, when I was frustrated, when I was giddy with excitement after having cracked a case. We've known each other for 15 years and have been married for a little less than half that time, but we've learned more and more about each other as the years roll by. She was used to sitting patiently, waiting for me to share a revelation or a problem with her, always eager to help and provide insight. As racist as it may sound, a Pegasus's outlook can be much different from a unicorn's, more than anypony seems to realize. I didn't really have much to share with her yet, so I just kept on thinking as the day went on.

After about two hours' thought, I accepted defeat. No matter what angle I tried, the colt's identity and motive were just too vague and clouded for me to gain any concrete evidence on. I then realized that I was going to have to go down the trail I desperately wished I didn't have to; I was going to have to find where Scooter and Lucy fit into all of this, meaning that I had no choice but to go to the last place in Ponyville I wanted to be. I laughed to myself and mused, out loud, "Tomorrow, while the kid's off standing around a library, I'll be taking a trip to the candy store."


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning was foggy but more in a lazy, peaceful sense than the sinister, ominous way so often portrayed in gangster movies. It was relatively early when the Heart twins said that I could leave and I wasted no time in doing so. I was outside of the hospital, stretching every part of my body that I could; sitting in a bed all day was a damned good rest, but not using my muscles for an entire twenty-four hours made them awfully sore. That, combined with my chest injury, pretty much made stretching a necessity if I wanted to walk anywhere beyond a mile's distance without breaking down and gasping in pain.

I ignored my body whining about not wanting to wake up and get to work. It took a certain amount of focus not to react at the signals of pain being sent to my brain, but I got there... Eventually. Stupid body. Once I was sure I was physically functional, I trotted to the center of the intersection in front of the hospital. It was the crossroads of two moderately busy streets that were empty this early in the morning. One road was parallel to the hospital's face while the other met it at a perpendicular angle. Four lamp posts, two in front of the hospital and one at each corner where the avenues met, were still dimly lit by a fading orange flame. When I arrived at the intersection's center, I formed a pose, tensing and stretching all four legs out at once while lowering my body slightly. Dash, who had been patiently waiting for me up to that point, spoke up when she saw the strange gesture.

"Um. What the hay are you doing?"

"Calling a friend." I said.

She frowned. "Oh... kaaaaay. Care to be more specific, old colt?"

I scoffed. "And deny myself the joy of giving you a cryptic answer that raises more questions than you originally had?_ Hell _no. That's what wizards do best, the dashing, smug bastards."

Dash made an impatient groan, the kind that teenagers were masters at, but sighed and quietly looked on, youthful curiosity sweeping away any will to argue.

I hesitated and took a deep breath, sucking in the dense, humid air of the morning. I still planned on going to Sugarcube Corner but I had to at least try this method of gathering information. Besides, it had been a while.

I raised my head so that my horn was pointing skywards, and placed a little bit of will – magic – into my vocal chords before shouting, "COME FORTH, MY COMPANION OF THE SKIES; MY EMISSARY OF WISDOM; MY HARBINGER OF THE SPIRIT WORLD. COME FORTH, AND GIVE UNTO ME THINE INSIGHT. **COME FORTH: MORGAN!**"

Again and again, I bellowed her name into the misty skies of the morning. The magical supercharge I gave my larynx not only increased the volume of my calls, but made every shout release a booming wave of magic, unnoticeable to anypony other than myself and who I was beckoning. It was after the fifth repetition of her name that I heard the beating of wings against the thick air in the sky.

Every wizard – a term defined as a unicorn that has spent at least four years studying in an Arcane Academy – has with them a guiding spirit of wisdom, a partner of sorts. Any mage worth their salt attracts a spirit of intelligence, and they vary just as much as the unicorns they flock to. Some can speak English perfectly. Others speak the tongue of the creature whose form they take. Some can be just as inexperienced as the pony they're with; others can have wisdom and experience gathered from living for literal ages, before ponies even sprouted from their evolutionary infancy. We don't know why they decided to help us, or why they take the form of birds. They dodge the questions whenever we ask them. But they seem to have a leader and whenever the pony who owns it dies, they die too. Starswirl the Bearded was in cahoots with a stately raven. Marelin had an owl named Archimedes. And Princess Celestia has a _freaking_ phoenix named Philomeena at her side, the current leader of all the spirits. And I may be a bit biased in saying this, but all – and I mean ALL – of those spirits probably weren't even _close_ to being as odd as mine.

I relaxed my muscles and stood normally again when I heard the beating of wings in the distance. Dash, who had covered her ears while I shouted, shot me an angry glare before looking up at the sky to see where the sound was coming from. Suddenly, a large gust of wind accompanied by a loud _woosh!_ engulfed the cobblestone intersection where Dash and I stood. The lamp post on the street corner to my right darkened and its flame, which had somehow survived the gale, became even smaller until it turned into a dot the size of a needlepoint. Eerily enough, the fire's color went from orange to a ghostly blue. Not even a second later, a massive vulture the size of one pony with a wingspan twice as large landed gracefully atop the iron post's tip.

Morgan's physical form was the paragon of a rare, frightening beauty. The avian had a scarlet head, the same color as raw meat, while the rest of her body was charcoal black, except for a line of white feathers forming a V around her neck, the bottom tip forming a vertical line that devolved into a white swirl. It was obviously an unnatural plumage. But the most noticeable physical trait she had was her eyes. Other than the reflection of the sun's light, they were devoid of irises. Just two great black voids staring out of her eye-sockets: cold and unfeeling. All in all, she gave off an aura that inspired both fear and admiration, that would inspire artists to make paintings of her if they weren't so frightened.

But as I said, she was a very odd spirit. The demeanor her appearance gave her vanished the moment she began speaking. Her voice was elderly, had a nasally and cultured accent like some of the rich mares you'd see in Fillydelphia, and sounded like an old aunt greeting an adolescent nephew. "Why, Phil, dearie! Oh my goodness, I just couldn't believe my ears – well, technically I don't _have_ ears but, really, who pays attention to little details like that? – But anyways, I simply couldn't believe my whatever-you-call-thems when I heard you call my name! You simply _must_ call me more often! It's terribly rude to neglect a lady, you know."

I smiled and, being courteous to my elders, bowed my head to the old bird. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Morgan."

Beside me, Dash audibly gulped. "... Woah."

I leaned toward her and murmured. "Don't look impressed, kid. Her ego's big enough as is."

"I_ heard _that, darling," she said, though her way of speaking made it sound more like _dahhhling_. "And I sincerely doubt that you're glad to see me. If so, then why is it that I haven't seen you in_ eons_?"

"It's been five months, Morgan," I said.

She waved a wing dismissively. "Months, eons, it's all the same; honestly, you mortals are so attached to linear time, you fail to realize how overly complicated and downright confusing it is."

Dash, the poor filly, was having a hard time taking in everything that just happened. "Linear? All the same? I... what? Who the hay is _she_!"

I couldn't help but chuckle, mostly due to the nostalgia of having reacted to Morgan the very same way. I vaguely motioned from Dash to Morgan. "Dash, this is Morgan. She gets me info that's near-impossible to get on my own. And Morgan, this is Rainbow Dash."

Her attention shifted over to the filly, and a chilly smile graced her weathered countenance. "Well, well! It's about time, Philip! I always thought you looked better as a father than a hardboiled detective, and it seems you've finally gone back into the parenting game!"

"Parenting g –... what?" I rubbed my forehead for a moment. "Sleipnir's hoof, why the hay does everypony think she's my kid? She's my _assistant_, Morgan. She personally knows the vics of the case I'm working on and we made a deal: she gives me info and I keep her in the loop on this investigation."

She sighed, her expression crestfallen. "Of course she isn't your child. In any case, I believe I've prattled on long enough. As you said, my purpose is to give you information that you could never obtain on your own. Therefore, I must have some info that you are in dire need of, most likely regarding this case that you mentioned earlier." I nodded, to which she replied, "Tell me everything."

I did. Well, I didn't exactly tell her _everything_. I snipped out the details about Rainbow Dash's perdicament, courtesy of our mystery colt, not only because it wasn't relevant to the case, but there are just some things you don't tell anypony who doesn't deserve to know. I had more than enough respect for Dash to honor our unspoken agreement that nopony would hear of Dash's vulnerability. The kid was stubborn, proud and had a little too much self esteem for her own good. Sure, it was a shell she created to protect herself and sure, she had to get out of it sooner or later. But you don't ask kids as young as she is to grow up like that. If her self-portrayed image of being tough and invincible was shattered, she'd be devastated.

As I spoke, I realized one little detail in Morgan's expression. When I told her about my hypothesis regarding the source of the perpetrator's powers, a shudder crept up her back when I mentioned the moon. The only reason I even noticed it was that it spread to her wings and caused her feathers to ruffle a bit. Interesting. Morgan, one of the oldest and most experienced spirits of intellect on the planet, never cringes or shudders.

When I finished conveying the details to her, she started questioning my logic – not because she thought it wasn't sound, per se, but because she wanted to test me, see if there was an angle I hadn't considered. It was a comfortable, familiar ritual that we always engaged in over years. "How do you know the culprit is as powerful as you say?"

"When I visited the crime scene, I tried to track him down by pinpointing his magic 'footprint,' so to speak. But when I extended my sixth sense over the area, I got the mental equivalent of getting slugged by a sack of bricks." I frowned. "I didn't even think about it until just now, but that massive amount of energy was what remained_ after _a brief but particularly nasty rainstorm. And sunrise to boot."

"Good lord," she muttered. You see, magic doesn't really last too long once it's released by a unicorn. Only magic associated with an artifact or demesne is for keeps. Other than that, however, magic can be nullified by two naturally occurring factors: sunrise and running water. Monsters, for example, can't cross rivers and flooded ditches, and aren't particularly fond of the sun. Magic is loosely bound by the same rules. A harsh rainstorm like the one from two days ago would normally have destroyed any magic residue that may have survived the sunrise. But the spell that was launched the night of the murder must have had power with a capital P. Not only did it survive the sunrise and storm, but what was left almost shattered my psyche when I tried to get a feel for it. I had never heard of magic that powerful before and at that moment, when I realized just how potent the killer's power source was, I felt truly frightened by what might be on the loose in Ponyville.

After a chilling pause, Morgan asked, "Why not ask the nice librarian colt that you told me about? Surely, he keeps a mental note of all of his customers and at least the premise of what book he or she has purchased. Such details may prove useful."

I shook my head. "He's out of town and will be for a while. And I'm pretty sure that Ebony would have disguised himself somehow before checking out any books in public. He's reckless, but he isn't outright stupid."

Morgan tilted her head at an unnatural, quizzical angle. It was creepy as hell and actually a bit painful to watch. "Ebony?"

I shrugged, trying not to shiver. "It's the nickname I gave the killer. He used a pigmentation spell to make his hide, mane and eyes pure black when he attacked the two of us. It also works for both genders and sounds like a bad guy's name. Pretty clever, I think."

Morgan smiled, a difficult thing to do with a beak. "Indeed it is, dearie."

I frowned. This wasn't like her. She never beat around the bush like this, especially when lives were on the line. I had used her as a source of information and a consultant whenever I had a particularly difficult case, back when I was living in Manehattan. She was always concise, to the point, and only joked and made casual conversation now and then, when the situation wasn't so serious. But now she seemed to steer away from the subject, mildly asking questions and going off-topic whenever she could. It looked like I was going to have to ask her direct questions instead of counting on her to provide useful information automatically. Fortunately, I knew just the question to ask.

"So, what can you tell me about the moon?" I asked.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Nothing."

"You mean you don't know?"

She eyed me, completely serious. "No, Philip. I know exactly what Ebony is getting their power from. But I literally _cannot_ tell you what it is."

Anger surged through my body and I felt my teeth grinding together. "What the hay do you mean, 'I can't tell you'?"

Morgan continued looking at me solemnly, though her face began to sag in sorrowful regret. "Philip, this case you're working on... it's dangerous. Colossally so. You have no idea how out of your league you are. Ebony may be an amateur but he is being sponsored by an ancient and powerful being. So powerful, in fact, that Philomeena herself has ordered that we never speak of it in detail."

I winced. Like I said earlier, Philomeena was the leader of the wisdom spirits. It wasn't an elected office. Philomeena had a link to all the other spirits, a mental bond that allowed her to control them to a small degree. She couldn't pull off things like outright zombification, but she could make small orders like not being allowed to say something an actual physical impulse. When Morgan said that she couldn't tell me anything about whatever the hell kind of magic he was using, she didn't mean that she'd get in mega-trouble. She couldn't tell us, the same way we can't bend our knees the wrong way.

My anger had boiled over and my mouth started moving before checking in with my brain. It smelled like politics to me, and I don't much like politics getting in the way of me putting some murderous bastard behind bars. Especially when the politician responsible for it is mucking around with a friend's head in order to do it. "Maybe when she's done scolding you for giving out 'classified information,' you can invite her to the victim's funeral and tell her that she would have had to attend a hundred more if you didn't."

She glared at me. "Philip!"

I didn't pause to let her scold me. "Morgan, there are _lives_ at stake here. Two ponies are dead, and who knows how many more are on this guy's list. And I know for certain that if Dash and I call it quits, he's going to come after us and _kill_ us. I could fend him off for a while, but not forever. He'd get us eventually." As I finished my last sentence, I saw Dash in my peripheral vision, trying to hide a shudder.

"Now calm down, Philip." said Morgan. "I know full well that you two are in grave peril because of this case and I don't intend to let anything happen to you. Philomeena told us not to tell anyone about the being that happens to be lending its power to Ebony." She winked at me. "She did not, however, say that we couldn't lead anypony along so that he could find out for himself."

My anger dissipated immediately and I found myself grinning. "Oh, you dastardly girl."

She made a dramatic actor's bow, tilting her head while placing one of her wings against her chest. "I try. Now then: on to business. A long while ago, what you mortals would consider several hundred years, Princess Celestia demanded that no records of the being be made by anypony living in Equestria. She also burned every traceable record that was already created when she passed this law. However, the Ibex Empire, always relishing in the catastrophes and failures of their neighboring equine nations, published a very in-depth tome about the being. It details its history, lists the poems, legends and myths surrounding it, and even describes specifically what kind of creature it is."

I nodded. "Sounds like something they'd do, especially back in the old days. But what do you mean when you say, 'Specifically what kind of creature it is'?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I honestly can't say much more, Philip. What I've already told you will earn me a harsh scolding from Philomeena when she finds out. I can tell you one last thing, however." She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders in a meditative, relaxed pose. Spirits of intellect have an obsession, even a bond with the written word. When they're not helping wizards with the information they already know, they're out gathering even more by exploring regions - and some say, even dimensions - that we've never even heard of. Because of this, many of the older spirits have an ability to track down and find a book or tome, especially if they've already read it.

I leaned over to Dash and explained to her what Morgan was doing. The poor kid must not have known what the hell was going on. She deserved to be on the level, at the very least. After a few minutes of silence, Morgan opened her eyes and looked down at me once more. "The one you call Ebony did not destroy the book when he finished reading it. He has instead placed it in the Ponyville dump, in the midwestern sect of this town."

"I'm familiar with the place. And it's fine. You've given me all the information I need to work from." I bowed my head once more. "Thank you for everything, Morgan."

She returned the gesture, smiling. "Why, of course, Philip. It's been far too long since I've been able to help you. You really should take more cases like this." Her eyes lit up, morbidly obsessive. "They are quite fascinating to see unfold."

I laughed nervously. "Sorry, Morgan, but I'm still on a bit of a vacation."

She batted a wing at the air. "Bah! Vacation. Nopony takes a vacation from fighting the forces of evil. It is your destiny to fight the good fight, you know. No rest for the wicked, and no rest for those that battle them."

I frowned. "I'd been squinting at the darker corners of Equestria for five good years when I left Manehattan. I deserve the break. And if destiny says I don't, then destiny can bite my ass."

Morgan rolled her head back and cackled, then settled down and grinned at me. It was way creepier than it sounds. "You say that, child, yet here you are, asking for my advice on such a grim subject. Fate has a way of ushering its proxies into action, whether they wish to do so or not. Besides, I don't see why you needed a vacation in the first place. I don't really understand how poor Sunny's departure warranted rest from your job. It wasn't even closely–"

As she spoke of Sunny, I felt my jaw tighten, my hooves involuntarily pressing against the ground in a firm push. I muttered, my voice hoarse, "That's enough."

Morgan looked at me, puzzled. "But Phil, dearie, I–"

I didn't realize how loud I was until I saw Rainbow jump. "I said that's enough! You may be my partner, spirit, but you will **not** talk about my daughter as if she's some subject for idle gossip. You spoke not even twenty words with her the entire time you knew her. Only Lotus and I can talk about her, and don't you **dare** think you have that same privilege. I will face that demon when I damned well _wish_ to, and neither you nor _anypony_ else can decide otherwise." I narrowed my eyes. "Do you understand?"

She frowned, but nodded.

"_Say it,_" I snarled.

"I understand."

I could tell she was genuinely regretful for mentioning her, though she was also angry that I reacted so brashly. Hell, maybe I _was_ a bit too harsh. But the way she mentioned it just set me off. She said it in her usual conversational tone, the tone of voice you hear from middle-aged, gossiping mares. And the mental image of them, whispering to one another and rolling their eyes and laughing about my daughter pissed me off more than you could possibly imagine. You could only really understand the level of hatred if you were a parent yourself. And even more so if you've lost one of your children. And then of course, she made it sound as if I was overreacting, as if her death wasn't a big deal. I couldn't entirely blame her for such detachment, though. She was a spirit, a creature far beyond our realm of understanding. She didn't understand death and loss, or family, or even real emotion. She could imitate it and pretend to understand it skillfully, even to the point of almost convincing me that it was all in earnest, but at the end of the day, all she saw was two ponies, one an older male, the other a female child; one was alive and the other wasn't. That's all it was to her, simple as that.

I shook my head, sighing. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I keep forgetting that it's hard for you to understand. I just… I need more time to face this." I looked up at her solemnly and planted my hooves to the ground, this time with determination instead of anger. "I_ will _get back into the fray. I won't just stand aside and let my fellow ponies get hurt. Hell, if I was planning on never fighting back, I sure as hay wouldn't have called you today, or have even taken this case at all. I just need some time to heal, to clear my head. Please, Morgan. You don't have to understand it. Just trust me."

Morgan smiled. "You sure do love your speeches, don't you Philip? It's quite alright, dearie. Lucky for you, your defiance and hot temper is partially why I chose to be your guide. But you have more important things to do at the moment than apologize to this old girl." She tensed, ready to take off, but then paused for a moment. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. I figured that whatever reason you called me must have been important, so I took the liberty of fetching your talismans for you."

I lifted my eyebrows. I was actually planning on getting them once I dropped the kid off to spy at the library. Morgan took my magical foci out of the feathers on her chest – Celestia knows where she was keeping them – and tossed them at me. I easily caught them in midair with my telekinesis, and started to arm myself from head to toe with my own personal arcane artifacts.

I took off my trenchcoat and fastened a black vest around my chest. It had a couple of straps and buckles at the back to keep it in place, as well as an assortment of pockets all across its front that I used to keep thaumaturgical ingredients and sometimes even potions. But the most important part of it was that it had a small enchantment over it that lessened the impact of physical strikes, though it did diddly against things like fire bolts and balls of acid. As I finished fastening the last of its straps, I felt its magic spread across my body, a small but noticeable thrumming vibration.

After putting my trenchcoat back on, I grabbed the next talisman and held it beside me with my telekinesis: my staff. For beginners, using your horn to cast magic is easier, simply because you don't have to worry about carrying around a big hunk of wood with telekinesis AND using it to cast a spell. However, once you got to the point where carrying things with telekinesis was as natural as breathing, staffs, staves and rods become vital assets. The foci makes it easier to concentrate your spells and also helps you pinpoint which direction you want them to go. My staff was an almost straight length of a silver material that looked like it was covered in chalk dust, and was bent at odd, jagged angles at the top. It was actually made of pure rock, a blend of granite and basalt, unlike the usual wood that most staves were made of. It isn't conventional but, seeing as I specialize in earth-based magic anyways, that was fine by me.

And lastly, I attached the two ends of a necklace behind my head, a ritual more comfortable and soothing than the other phases of getting my game-face on. The locket that it held was a heart made of solid, honest-to-goodness gold and decorated with pure silver wings. I had received it as a sort of payment for assisting an archeologist in infiltrating a dragon's den undetected so that he could find an ancient relic that was relevant to his studies. In exchange, I could keep one of the no doubt priceless items that the dragon also hoarded in his cave. When opened, the locket revealed two built in frames that were able to hold small pictures in them, so long as they were cut to fit the locket's cardiac shape. When I first received it, it was empty, save for the inscriptions on the rims of the picture frames. _Guide us through purity_, and _Cast us from temptation_, were inscribed into the left and right frames, respectively. Nowadays, however, two pictures were nestled within the frames. I lifted the locket up to my lips and gently kissed it, murmuring a prayer for myself, Dash, and every damned pony in Ponyville that was being threatened by the murdering bastard that was out on the loose, making a mockery of some apparently powerful magic. I then let the locket dangle against my chest, directly over my heart, and I felt a surge of confidence and energy course through every fiber of my body. It was my more spiritual and mental talisman, and it was by far the most valuable and irreplaceable.

As I looked over myself, feeling more comfortable with my battle gear, I noticed that Morgan was giving me a warm, matronly smile. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt gnaw at me. She had already planned on helping me before she had even arrived. My smile faded, and I bowed respectfully to my greatest ally. "Thank you, Morgan."

I continued speaking, but she cut me off with a swift wave of her wing. "If you're going to apologize again, save your breath, child. I really take no offense from the gesture." She smiled, black eyes shining. "After all, you mortals are infamous for getting overly emotional over the stupidest things. I've come to expect it now, and even find entertainment out of it."

I opened my mouth to speak, but figured it was no use and just heaved a sigh, smiling. I nodded to her and a second after returning the gesture, she was gone in an instant. No flash of light. No dramatic take off. No smoke or special effects. Just one second, there was a giant vulture perched in front of us, and the next, the lamp post stood empty, the flame inside of it returning to its normal color and size.

I huffed a breath, having held it while thinking of what to do next, and began trotting toward the Ponyville dump. I was still a bit sore from the conversation with Morgan, so I had to give Dash a forced smile when I turned my head back to look at her. "Come on, kid. We're taking a detour."

She raised a hoof and opened her mouth to speak, obviously bothered by something, but closed it and nodded at me. She quickly caught up and we walked off into the misty street.

The walk to the dump took the better half of an hour. The sun began to rise and the mist engorging the town dissipated quickly. As more ponies were roused, ready to start their day, I realized something rather unsettling: everypony was staring at Dash and me.

I kept looking ahead but darted my eyes to the side to get a quick read of what kind of looks they were giving us. All of them were afraid, terrified of something. It didn't take much thought to guess what. The news and police portrayed the "riot" as an accident for the simple reason that it seemed like one. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, then it's a damned duck. The assault two nights before, however, didn't look like an accident in the slightest. Half of the market district, a part of town that was practically at the center of it, was set on fire. There were no thunderstorms, and the patterns of the blaze probably showed signs of several fires being set at once, not just one isolated accident. They knew it was because of an arcane conflict and they definitely knew it was me. There certainly would have been eyewitnesses and believe you me, I'm the only caramel-colored unicorn colt with a black, tangled afro of a mane that wears a fedora and a trenchcoat in this entire town. Trust me, I checked. They all knew something serious was happening and they knew that it revolved around me. Hell, some of them probably put two and two together and realized that it was connected to the so-called "riot."

Dash and I both ignored them. I was busy pondering; we detectives are pretty good at that, and wizards even more so. I searched every mental archive I could, trying to think of something, anything that could have so much power that its fallout after sunrise and a rainstorm could almost cripple a journeyman of the arcane arts. Zip. Zilch. It was to be expected, I supposed. After all, Morgan said that every record of the creature was destroyed so I obviously would have never heard of it. All I knew about it was that it had something to do with the moon, and that it made Celestia herself scared to even mention it. If this thing spooked even her, well... that makes the chances of me putting this thing down practically at zero. I'd just have to keep it from giving its power to any two-bit, wacko sorcerer that trots by the library then. Yeah, I could do that.

Meanwhile, Dash was being reclusive as well, staring at the cobblestone ahead of her as she walked in a pensive silence. I highly doubted that she was trying to venture a guess as to what we were facing, like I was. If I had to make an assumption, I'd say she was wondering what the hell Morgan and I were talking about back there. And of course, if she was, she wouldn't just outright ask me. She probably would have before I snapped at Morgan but when I turned to look at her, I saw a small trace of fear. A fear directed at me.

When a unicorn decides to practice magic simply for its own sake instead of using it for menial tasks associated with their job, they have to go through a lot of training in order to be considered a full-fledged wizard. Alongside how to gather will and focus to reach a certain effect, the fundamentals of being a wizard is control, both moral and mental. It isn't so much about slinging a fireball as it is _why _one should sling the fireball, as well as when and where. When the Academy uncovers the powerful secrets it has unlocked over the past several centuries, it makes damned sure that anypony who knows them will use them responsibly and won't let his emotions get the better of him. And for the most part, the training does its job remarkably. Wizards are pictured as calm, level-headed ponies for a reason; we don't let little quips and pigheaded threats get to us– most of the time. When a wizard lets their emotions get to them, they give off a sort of aura. Or feng shui, as the Ibex warlocks call it, or chi, or grahmba, or whatever the hell name you want to give it. That aura reflects – and amplifies – the emotion being felt. If the wizard's powerful enough, one that is feeling despair might make the flowers around them sag, or even wilt. And when I displayed pure, unrestricted anger a few minutes ago, I no doubt let off an aura that boomed through the entire intersection, if not further. It was probably thick, constantly making everypony that felt it aware that it was there, no matter how hard they might have tried to ignore it. Violent, destructive thoughts scraping at the Mind's Eye of anypony unfortunate enough to be close by. I've seen such ponies' reactions to it before. It usually involved a lot of shuddering, twitching and in one case, nonsensical murmuring.

Lovely. Another reason to feel like manure, as if I was on a shortage of those. Dash was scared enough as things were. There was a murderer on the loose, one so powerful that Celestia herself forbid anypony to even speak of his power source, whatever the hay_ that _might be. We had no idea how to find him and if we didn't remedy that soon – a little more than twelve hours, to be exact – he would probably kill us. And even if all of that was resolved, if the murderer was put to justice and we got out of it all in one piece, the frightening, unavoidable fact remained: she would have to figure out how to live without Scooter and Lucy, her de-facto parents. She would be alone, have to fend for herself, like all the years before she was adopted– the helpless time of her life that she thought she would never have to live through again.

Aside from the rubberneckers and the pang of guilt for spooking Dash like I did, the walk to the dump turned out pretty uneventful. And likewise, the dump itself wasn't anything worth mentioning. It was just like a dump in any other town, village or city: several lumpy hills of garbage surrounded by a fence made of four poles and a bunch of chicken wire. Once we passed the garbage attendant (which I'd imagine would be one of the most boring jobs in existence), we looked around to see where the book might be. Maybe, if we were lucky, it would be somewhere conspicuous. Maybe we wouldn't have to cover ourselves with filth while we wasted hours of searching in piles of garbage that towered over us.

"Yeah," I muttered to myself, "and maybe Big McIntosh will make it big in theatre. Get cast as King Stear. I can see it now."

I was walking away from Rainbow, letting her search near the entrance while I examined the deeper sections of the dump, when I heard her shout, "Hey old colt! I think I found it!"

I looked back at her, my ears perking up. "Yeah?"

When I turned to face her, she was presenting something that, in hindsight, I probably should have noticed when I first arrived. It was a large, white bookcase, completely untouched. It was made of cheap faux wood, the kind of material used to make furniture in more "modern" homes, places considered pricey in small towns and cheesy in big cities. But the most noticeable feature of the piece was that it was spotless. I don't mean that it was pretty clean and that from afar, it looked brand new: I mean it literally had no dirt on it at all. None of its shelves were busted or broken and it stood tall and straight, a stiff and geometric white figure in the midst of broken, amorphous browns and greys. The only object in all of the shelves was a small, tanned book.

I glanced at Dash and back at the shelf. Then I laughed at her and continued walking away from her, shaking my head while chuckling. "Good one, kid. Had me going there for a minute. But I highly doubt that our criminal mastermind would be so stupid as to put a book detailing his weaknesses in a place that would stick out like a sore— Ow!"

I felt a dense, smooth mass hit me in the back of the head, just beneath my hat's rim. The book almost knocked my fedora off of my head and landed on the dusty floor with a dull, heavy thump.

I rubbed at the back of my head, massaging the small, boned bump on the back of my head. "Sleipnir's hoof, kid, what the hay's the matter with you? I figured you would know proper sarcasm etiquette at this age. When someone snarks you, you snark back. You don't throw..."

By the time I reached near the end of my scolding, my tongue was stopped cold and my eyes widened in response to the golden letters written in a flourish that flashed before my eyes. The leather book's title instantly brought back a flood of memories; it wasn't like the mind-throbbing pain that I experienced at the crime scene a couple days ago, but was more like the opposite of when you wake from a dream. Instead of instantly forgetting something that was so clear so recently, I immediately remembered things that were completely unknown to me five seconds ago.

I fell flat on my haunches and held the book in my hooves, shaking as the information and memories continued to spread through my mind. I managed to calm my hooves down long enough to rest the volume on my knees and open the book to the first page. Dash was already beside me, looking over my shoulder. As we read the tome titled, _"The Mare in the Moon," _we both experienced a revelation and simultaneously said the same exact thing.

"We had _two_ princesses!"


End file.
